


King of My Vagina

by Babashook, TheMouthKing



Category: Rhett & Link, rhink - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Gender or Sex Swap, Genderfuck, Inspired by Twitter, M/M, Penis In Vagina Sex, Smut, What Have I Done, allergic to syrup, fem!rhett, just a little bit, not necessarily heterosexual sex, super bisexual genderfucked Rhett, super clueless Link, surprise daddy play, syrup gives me tits, when did I become a crack dealer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-04 23:41:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10292588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Babashook/pseuds/Babashook, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMouthKing/pseuds/TheMouthKing
Summary: After readingthis tweet, I couldn't stop thinking aboutwhat if Rhett really had a vagina?(And if he did, we all know who's the King of it.)Decided to blame the genderfuckery on Rhett's allergic reaction tosyrupfrom the shenanigans ofGMM #983. Because why the heck not.





	1. Girls Just Wanna Have Fun

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Babashook](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Babashook/gifts).



> This is weird. It's gonna get weirder. Sorry for all the non-stop crack, y'all. #notthatsorry
> 
> Not smutty in chapter 1. Sorry folks. I'm a slow build person.
> 
> P.S. For clarity sake, I try to keep all Rhett pronouns as _she_ when Rhett's body is female. If you catch an error, it's an error.

Link was eating his cereal and scrolling through notifications on his phone when a text from Rhett came in: _‘Not feeling well today, man. Think I’m gonna take the day and get some sleep.’_

They don’t often take sick days. It happens, sure, and when they can kind of feel one coming on they try and stock up on a couple of episodes so they don’t need to stress about filming when they’re trying to recover. And they _do_ have a couple episodes already filmed, probably three days of wiggle room right now without having planned for it. 

So it’s fine, but Link’s disappointed. He’d been looking forward to seeing Rhett after the weekend, and they had a fun shoot planned for today, but he supposes it’ll have to happen another day. 

_‘What’s the matter?’_ Link texts between spoonfuls of cereal and, when he doesn’t get an answer (or even see the ellipsis that lets him know Rhett’s typing, he texts again): _‘Need me to bring you anything?’_

Christy and Jesse are both out of town on a field trip with the kids or else he’d assume that Rhett was fine over there on his own. 

_‘Nah man, I’m good. Thanks tho. You headed in to the office anyway?’_

_‘Probably in a bit. You text Stevie yet?’_

_‘Yep.’_

Link sits and finishes his cereal, poking his phone’s screen periodically to keep it from going to sleep. Rhett says he’s fine on his own, but Link still wants to do something for him. Bring him soup, maybe. He never asks for it when he’s sick, but he knows he always appreciates it when he’s thoughtful. 

Link finishes his morning routine and puts in an order for chicken soup from a place nearby that’s really good, and he heads out to go pick it up and swing by Rhett’s on the way in to the studio. He doesn’t bother texting him when he arrives — which is his first mistake — just parks in the driveway and heads up to the front door, the soup in a brown paper takeout bag in one hand as he fishes through his keys to find Rhett’s house key with the other. He lets himself in, which is his second mistake. 

“Hey Rhett, I brought you some soup,” he calls in as he shuts the door behind him.

Rhett doesn’t answer. 

He’s probably in the bedroom. Link considers putting the soup away and shooting a text or leaving him a note, but he wonders if Rhett would want some now if he offered it. 

He heads up the stairs and knocks before calling through the shut bedroom door, “Hey, Rhett? I brought you some soup…” and pushes it open before taking a step inside. 

“Hey, what the hell!” comes a shout in a voice Link doesn’t recognize. 

Link stops dead, one hand on the doorknob, the other clutching the brown bag of soup, and he stands staring at the strange woman in the bed, apparently naked, with the sheets pulled up over her chest. Confusion is obvious and etched in his features. Confusion and then anger. 

“Who are you?”

“Link, what the fuck, man? I said I was sick…” 

The woman is talking to him like he should know what she’s talking about, but it doesn’t add up. Link shakes his head. 

“Where the fuck is Rhett? Are you sleeping with him?” Link hears his voice amp up an octave when he asks that. He’s upset. He’s upset at the idea of Rhett cheating on Jesse… right? He’s not jealous. He wasn’t jealous of Jesse, there’s no reason to be jealous of this strange woman, either. It’s not like Rhett had brought a guy to bed…

Focus, Link. 

“I _am_ Rhett, I just said—“

“What the hell are you on that you expect me to believe that?” It’s obvious she’s not Rhett. She’s a _she_ , for starters. 

“Listen, I just woke up like this… it just happens sometimes. I don’t know what it is, but I’m Rhett. C’mon man, look at me.”

“Okay, Beyoncé.” It’s clear that Link doesn’t believe her, but he does take a moment to look at her — really look at her. He doesn’t have a sense of her height — she’s still sitting in bed — but she looks tall. Her hair is the same, but it’s down, curling messily around her face and ears. Her eyes are that same cool gray… but it’s not possible. The momentary suspension of disbelief is gone and he’s back, angry and yelling again.

“Bullshit,” Link starts again, “Where is he?” Link turns, setting the soup down on the dresser, looks towards the bathroom and calls, “Rhett! Rhett, come back here! I can’t be—”

“You _idiot_ ,” she bellows, interrupting him loudly as she flaps the covers off of herself and moves to stand. “I _am_ Rhett. Look at me. Look at my face, it’s _me_ , you moron. And yeah, today I’m a woman. It _happens_ , but usually I don’t have to have this conversation with you because it happens on a weekend or I call in sick and you leave me be like I ask you to.” 

Except Link isn’t listening to a goddamn word she says because there’s a giant woman standing in Rhett’s bedroom, topless, wearing Rhett’s underwear. Link is suddenly even more confused, for so many reasons. Chief among them being that, even if this was possible, she’s not the right height — she’s shorter than Rhett by a couple inches, and it’s not just the difference in her hair being down. She’s maybe 6’2”, 6’3” tops… and she’s naked, did he mention that? Naked and proportional. It looks like whatever height she’s lost has been made up for in other… areas. She’s got soft, full breasts and a bit of a belly that’s not so unlike Rhett’s but hips that are _quite_ unlike his, wide and shapely, stretching the elastic of Rhett’s navy boxer briefs. 

Link cannot stop staring. 

“Oh, come on, man, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

What the hell is she talking about? Link _definitely_ hasn’t seen this before. 

Probably half of the reason that Rhett is so blasé about standing around half naked in front of Link like this is how mad he is at Link’s reaction — that he’s so dead sure that Rhett’s cheating on Jesse with someone who obviously could be his sibling. _Come on,_ he looks damn near the same like this. With just, you know, some (not so small) differences. And how long have they been friends? Link should know that even if he was doing the unthinkable and cheating on his wife, that blonds aren’t his type…

There’s maybe a small part of Rhett that likes the attention, the way that Link is gaping at him (her) openly like that, like he couldn’t tear his eyes away if he tried to. Link looks at him normally too, when Rhett's himself, but it’s not this overt, not this intense. It’s more stolen, caught in sidelong glances than the way it is now, this slack-jawed wonder. 

“What are you doing?” Link asks when she goes into the closet, flicks on the light and starts fishing around in the back section, behind Rhett’s clothes. “Get out of there, don’t touch Rhett’s things.” 

A mythical shoe comes flying out of the closet and hits Link square in the chest. Link screams and flails as it does, indignant to be the victim of such a crime. 

“Make like I’m not me one more time and I’m gonna come out there and smack you, dressed or not.”

Link freezes. Does he want that? He kind of wants that. He wants answers more, but he’s paralyzed in place, imagining all six foot three inches of her coming out to slap him and how her body would move, hips swaying and… wait, what the fuck is going on here?

Where Link’s standing, he can see Rhett. Or, well, the woman apparently known as Rhett. He watches as she pulls a bra out and fights her way into it with all of the practiced unease of someone with part-time breasts. Eventually, she hooks the back and then pulls it on, which isn’t great for the life of the bra (nor is easy or comfortable) but is fairly effective after a time. Next comes a cactus print dress that’s reminiscent of Rhett’s cactus print sweater. 

Link’s chewing that one over while she fiddles with it, tying the belt in back of herself to accentuate her waistline. Link’s so lost in watching that he misses that Rhett’s apparently annoyed with him for gawking at her the way he is — Link’s got this angry stupid look on his face that’s pissing Rhett off — and it earns him a balled up pair of boxer briefs to the torso. 

Link flinches and flails away again, but it does the trick. It earns Rhett a hair of privacy while she pulls on a pair of panties and black leggings for under the dress (because she is _not_ shaving, not today). Stretching up a bit more than she’s used to, she pulls down a box and finds flip-flops inside, just a bit smaller than she might normally need, obviously purchased especially for these days. 

“Rhett?” Link tries, eyes narrowing as he regards the tall blond standing in Rhett and Jesse’s closet. 

“Link.” His tone is annoyed. Link’s blocking the way out of the closet — isn’t that just ironic? — and Rhett crosses his (her) arms beneath her chest, a physical manifestation of that annoyance. It’s an awkward move, now, and there’s a few seconds where it’s obvious she doesn’t know if she should cross them _over_ her chest or, well, under. Over is awkward and they just sort of gravitate to under, which pretty much shelves her breasts on her forearms. The effect is not as stern and irritable as Rhett would have liked. 

“Bullshit,” Link concludes, tearing his attention away from Rhett’s cactus clad chest, refusing to believe this. “There’s no way, _no way_ you’re Rhett.”

“Do you want me to prove it?” Rhett snaps back. 

“How can you prove it?” Link frowns, eyeing the tall blond suspiciously. He’s already seen her practically naked, and his mind is rushing right back there, like there’s some proof in this foreign body that the person inside is still Rhett. 

“Ask me something only I would know.”

After exactly one second of thought, Link asks, “Where did we meet?”

 _Everyone knows the answer to this by now._ But, fine. She’ll play ball, if that’s how he wants to play it. “In first grade. We were writing cuss words on our desks—”

“Everyone knows that!” Link practically explodes before she’s done talking. 

“Then ask me something else!” Rhett’s still in the closet and swiftly losing patience with that fact.

“Have I ever pierced my ears?” 

Rhett rolls her eyes. “Yeah. One of ‘em, anyway.”

“Which one, though?”

“I don’t know, man, that was like twenty years ago.” Link looks momentarily vindicated until Rhett ruins it, “Everyone knows that, too, though. It’s on the wiki.”

“Well, then you tell me something. Something nobody else knows,” Link crosses his arms. Rhett can tell that the gesture isn’t all about annoyance. He looks like he’s hugging himself, like he’s trying to comfort himself in the face of this situation he can’t make sense of. 

Rhett looks thoughtful, expression softening, already having made up her mind about what to say to try and convince Link that she’s still the same person. 

“Remember that first time you drank rum—” Rhett begins, but doesn’t get the chance to finish her sentence. 

“Rhett!” it’s not an acknowledgement of identity (though it is) as much as it’s a warning to _shut the hell up_. Link’s uncomfortable. His face is hot and he feels like it’s obvious — not just the fact that he’s flushed, but the meaning behind it. The truth is that he’d liked what had happened and didn’t know how to talk about that then. He still doesn't know how to talk about it now. He sure as hell didn’t want it to happen again while drunk — that’s not how he wanted things to be. But he couldn’t find it in him to even talk about it sober. 

“Well you wanted something nobody knows,” Rhett looks so… Link doesn’t know. Upset, maybe. But she’s been upset since he’d walked in the door, so it’s hard to pin it to any one thing. What he doesn’t read in the look on her face is the hurt she feels at Link’s response to that memory, like he was repulsed by just the mention of it.

Link notices the mole on her upper lip in the exact same place that Rhett does. He doesn’t see it much these days — the last time he had was when Rhett had shaved for Buddy System. He keeps staring at her and the longer he looks, the more he sees it. The height difference still throws him, he doesn’t understand that, but… it’s Rhett. Link hugs himself tighter, trying to contain everything he’s feeling. 

“Rhett?” he asks finally, his voice as small and vulnerable as it had been back when they were kids. When they’d been fighting or something and Link would try and fix things, upset by the prospect of Rhett being mad at him any longer. 

_“Link,”_ Rhett says, not for the first time in the last five minutes in response to Link questioning her identity. She supposes she understands Link’s shock in a sense, but given how easily Jesse had taken to it, she’d sort of expected Link to catch on faster. 

“What the crap,” Link breathes, and dares to take a step closer, into the closet with her, like he needs to be closer to get a better look. 

“I dunno, man, it just started happening a few months ago.” Rhett had theories — boy, did she ever have theories — but no hard proof about just what caused this. 

“Wait, what do you mean happening? This happened before?”

“Dude, do you listen at all? I already said,” she sighs, annoyed. “Yeah, it’s happened before. Couple times. First time was after we had the girls on for Dirty Thirty, thought maybe it was some kind of reaction from the syrup—“

“This is a hell of an allergic reaction, Rhett.” It still just feels so strange to look at him… er, her, and call her Rhett. Though, maybe _him_ is still right. Just because he woke up in a woman’s body doesn’t mean anything’s changed. Right? “…do I still call you he? I mean, you’ll be back tomorrow or something, right?” 

“Not always… first time was almost two days. And, you can if you want, but you can say she, too. I’m not gonna be offended.” 

Rhett was a lot more comfortable with this than Link thinks he’ll ever be. But then, Rhett’s apparently had months to get used to this. 

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me about this back when it started?” Link’s honestly kind of hurt that Rhett had kept this a secret all this time. This is big. This is the kind of stuff they share. 

Or, you know, it would be, if this was remotely normal. They don’t have a precedent for this in their friendship. 

“Well, for one, I knew you’d freak out like this.”

“I am not freaking out!” Link shoots back, voice pitching up an octave in clear Link Freakout tone. 

“Oh, okay, my bad. It just looks like freaking out from over here,” Rhett’s done being in here, and she moves to leave, pausing in front of him in the doorway of the walk-in. “Can I come out of the closet, Link?”

Link, clearly taking those words to mean something entirely different, stands frozen in place like a deer in headlights and just stares up at Rhett, eyes huge and round and, frankly, terrified. “What?”

“Move,” Rhett says, managing somehow to keep the steely irritation on the surface until Link moves and lets her by. The look of fear in his eyes was upsetting, reminded Rhett all too much of how Link didn’t want to talk about that one night. 

Even though, realistically, it hadn’t been just the once.

Link moves and lets her by and turns, watching as she moves across the bedroom towards the bathroom. “Where are you going?”

“To the bathroom. Wanna come along?” Rhett calls back, leaning heavily on sounding annoyed as she turns back to look at him from the doorway. When Link has the good sense to look as though his question had been stupid, Rhett shuts the door. 

What Link had really wanted to know was, what are they doing now? Rhett’s dressed, in the bathroom… what’s next? Should he just leave? He looks around the room, at the abandoned bag of soup on the dresser and the unmade bed that she’d had just gotten up from. That _Rhett_ had just gotten up from. Rhett with those long legs… and Link, who had thought Rhett had an enviable ass before, couldn’t stop thinking about the effect the change had there. And her breasts… Link can’t believe that Rhett isn’t acting like this is a bigger deal. If he woke up tomorrow as a woman, he knows damn well he’d spend a _long_ time exploring the new real estate. 

Wait. This has happened before. Rhett probably _has_ spent time exploring this new body. Link’s staring at the unmade bed, the divot in the pillow from Rhett’s head, and he’s imagining what that would look like… imagining Rhett exploring this new body for the first time, all laid out in the bed, head thrown back as her hands roamed, moving down over her breasts. He can’t stop himself from wondering if they’re bigger than a handful. Link’s hands are big, but—

Link’s startled out of his thoughts, looking like he’d been caught doing something bad, when the bathroom door opens again and there she is again. Rhett, standing in the doorway, her hair a little damp — she hadn’t spiked it up with pomade, but she’d dampened her hands and ruffled them through it to kind of arrange how it fell around her face, little pieces curling around her ears. 

“C’mon, let’s go,” Rhett says. Link’s got this weird look about him, like a kid who’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and Rhett’s just mad enough still that he’s not looking at it too closely. 

“Go? Go where?” Link parrots back, but he’s already falling into step behind Rhett as she moves to the bedroom door. 

“Work. Might as well. Even if we can’t film, we can get something done.” 

There’s a not so subtle insinuation that Link was the only reason that Rhett’s been avoiding work on these lady days. Like he thought Link would react particularly poorly while the rest of the crew would almost take it in stride. 

“You wanna go out like that?” Link asks, and realizes immediately that that was the wrong question to ask. Link can’t remember the last time he saw Rhett look quite so hurt, even if it lasted just a split second. 

“I’ve gone out _like this_ plenty.”

“I’m sorry,” Link says automatically. He knows he’s fucking up. He can’t seem to stop saying the wrong thing, can’t seem to settle back down. How the hell is this affecting him so much? It’s not even happening to him. If anyone should be not-okay about this, it should be Rhett. But Rhett’s apparently comfortable in this skin, at least as comfortable as when it’s male skin. What is it about this that makes Link so damned uncomfortable?

“It’s alright,” Rhett says finally, even though it’s not. Rhett’s offended, though she trying not to be, trying to give Link time to wrap his head around this. It had taken Rhett a while to figure it all out at first — it was only fair to give Link that same space. “I know it’s a lot to take in all at once. It took me a bit to figure it all out at first, too…”

Link nods, visibly relaxing to know that Rhett hadn’t been as okay with it at first as he is right now. As she is right now. “Okay,” he says. “It is, yeah…” _—a lot to take in,_ is the end of that unspoken sentence. “It’s not permanent?” 

“Hasn’t been so far,” Rhett answers, for the first time, with a little smile tugging at her mouth. 

“Good,” Like decides aloud. Interesting as this may be (and nice as she is to look at) he’s glad this isn’t the way things are gonna be from here on out. He doesn’t think he could handle it. 

“You wanna go in? See what people say?” Rhett says, the rough edge of anger starting to come off her tone and demeanor, and the old playful mischievousness creeping back in. This almost feels familiar, the two of them with some secret and planning ways to prank the people outside their little circle. The little circle that’s always only been big enough for two. 

“Yeah. But I’m driving. There’s no way in hell I’m explaining this to the cops if you got pulled over.”


	2. Cherry Pie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part dos in this multiple part genderfuck adventure. Lady Rhett and Link go to work to mess with the crew. 
> 
> Along the way, Link is hit with friendly fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still no smut, despite the suggestive title. 
> 
> It's coming, folks.

“You wanna try keeping your eyes on the road?”

“Sorry,” Link apologizes, attention back straight ahead. He hadn’t really had his eyes off the road, he just can’t seem to stop glancing over at Rhett in the passenger’s seat. 

This isn’t gonna stop being weird for him. She’s enough shorter that her head doesn’t threaten to graze the roof of the car, but aside from that (and, you know, the obvious), almost nothing has changed. She’d tossed her bag in the backseat and got in the car, moving with the same deliberateness that Rhett’s settled into in his late thirties in an effort not to throw out his back inadvertently. Seated and belted, she takes advantage of the extra few inches of space in the car by crossing one leg over the other, shin braced up against the center console. She’s got her phone in her lap and is scrolling through twitter like this is any other day’s boring commute into the studio, like nothing about today is noteworthy at all. 

Link glances over, catches sight of Rhett liking tweets and smiling to herself as she scrolls. 

“Is this just another day for you?” Link asks, eyes steadfastly back on the road before Rhett can give him shit about looking. 

“…kinda, yeah,” Rhett says, letting the phone fall flat against her thigh. “I mean it’s not Monday as usual, but I’m not upset about it. I’m still me either way. I still _feel like me_.”

“Hmm,” Link hums to himself, obviously mulling it all over while he drives. 

The channel in the car is set to the classic rock station. The song that’s been playing ends and within the first few seconds of the song that starts up, Rhett cranks the volume and starts singing along.

“She’s my cherry pie, cool drink of water such a sweet surprise!”

To be honest, to say that Rhett’s just singing along is a huge understatement here. She’s rocking out, dancing in her seat, really getting into the ridiculous moves. It’s the same kind of ridiculous bullshit Rhett would pull any other day of the week — singing loud and obnoxious for comic effect. As usual, Rhett goes hard — once she’s started, she’s committed, and she’s using her phone as a microphone and singing at Link here and there in between moving back and forth in her seat to the music. If her hair was longer, she’d be doing the full hairband trademark move, whipping it back and forth. 

“Hey,” Link objects after tolerating it as long as he thinks he’s capable of. If it wasn’t hard enough to concentrate before, it’s goddamn impossible now with Rhett moving like that in his peripheral vision. It’s obvious that she’s just playing around for laughs, that she’s lost in the moment and having a good time but the way it reads is a whole different story. 

“We all scream for her, don’t even try, 'cause you can't ignore her!” Rhett points at Link as she sings, using the lyrics like conversation, the suggestion being that Link is trying to ignore her. 

Of course he fucking is. He’s not successful, but he’s got to try or else he’s going to wrap the car around a pole. 

“Rhett, stop.”

“Tastes so good, make a grown man cry!”

“I’m driving a car here.”

“Looks so good, bring a tear to your eye! Sweet cherry pie, yeaaaah!”

“No!” Link objects and reaches for the radio and switches the channel. As soon as his hand’s moved back to the wheel, Rhett switches the station back. 

“Swing it!”

It’s a miracle they make it into the studio in one piece.


	3. Abracadabra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fem!Rhett and Link mess with the crew, who have varied reactions. Surprise!

Link’s still not recovered from the drive in. It seems as though Rhett’s as oblivious as ever to his (now her) attractiveness, making up for a perceived lack by playing for laughs. Humor is what they do professionally, but beyond that, humor has always been something Rhett uses as a buffer, something to hide behind. Link’s never quite understood that, because he doesn’t see what Rhett does — he’s always thought Rhett was just perfect. 

That’s not to say they always get along. Rhett’s a real pain in the ass a lot of the time, but it all ties back to this thing Rhett can’t stop doing. How he feels like he’s gotta overcompensate for something by being the biggest clown. It’s that thing that’s always seemed like it leads into arguments and tension, Rhett unable to just say what’s on his mind and, instead, being an ass or tackling him to the floor and pretending to be dead. 

Or now, energetically singing and dancing in an absurdly distracting woman’s body during the whole drive in to the studio.

Why is _this_ so distracting? It’s not like he’s suddenly finding his best friend attractive only now that he’s a woman. No, Rhett’s been a draw on his attention since they were young. He just feels like he can control it better normally, when Rhett’s a he. Maybe it’s the years of practice being around him as a him. Not that he’s always been perfect in maintaining that control… he’s slipped up a few times over the years. Glances that stray, touches that linger too long to be strictly platonic… and that time with the rum. And that one other night…

Thinking about it to try and figure out just what his deal is only makes it more difficult, but he hasn’t got a prayer of thinking of anything else because any time he looks over at Rhett he’s faced with it again. Maybe that’s it. It’s just so new, so jarring that it breaks through his usual defenses and doesn’t let him skate on through the day like nothing’s amiss. If he could only find his footing, he’d be alright, he thinks. 

“Hang on,” Rhett says once they park, twisting to reach between their seats and into the backseat for her bag. In doing so, Rhett ends up inadvertently pressing one of his boobs right against Link’s shoulder. 

“Sorry,” she says as she comes back with the bag in hand. 

Link doesn’t think she sounds all that sorry. He sits there, looking over at Rhett while she sits rooting around in her bag, unable to stop thinking about how her breast had felt pressed against him. He’s staring too long again, but this time at least, Rhett’s not paying attention. 

The bag in Rhett’s lap is the one she always carries, with a change of shirt and underwear all pre-packed from the night before (just incase, even though they’ve got a full wardrobe inside, because you never know) along with assorted other stuff that gets hauled back and forth. The only thing different for today is the (very small) cosmetic bag she’d tossed in on top of everything else. 

Rhett pulls the visor down and uses the mirror to put on eyeliner. If they’re messing with the crew, then by god, they’re going to do it right. 

“Where’d you learn that?” Link asks, watching as Rhett does a fairly impressive job of eyeliner application. 

She gives him a sarcastic, sidelong glance. 

“I’ve done eye makeup before, man…” Rhett almost sounds insulted, looking at Link like he’s lost his damn mind.

Link knows Rhett’s never really liked it when other people do makeup on his eyes. Most of the time a costume called for it, Rhett’s done it himself. Still, it just feels like everything’s new all of a sudden. Like he’s discovering things about Rhett that he’s known for years. 

Rhett’s done and putting everything away when Link interrupts again, feels like he needs to, like he’s gotta say something. “No mascara?”

“Don’t need it,” Rhett answers, making eyes and batting her lashes at Link to make her point. She’s playing it like a joke, but it’s true — her lashes are long and full and while she could add mascara, it’s certainly not necessary. 

Link doesn’t quite know how to react. He agrees, if he’s honest — Rhett doesn’t need mascara, or eyeliner for that matter. Link’s fighting down the warm rush of something in the pit of his stomach at the way Rhett looks at him just then. He knows she’s just messing around, not unlike the way they always do, but it feels different today. They’re headed in to mess with the crew, but Link’s not clear of the line of fire. It’s like all his usual defenses against Rhett’s Rhettness are rendered useless today. He’s gonna be lucky to make it out of this alive. 

“Alright, let’s go,” Rhett gets out of the car first. 

Link exhales a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He is so not ready for what happens next. 

—

Stevie is the first one they run into. 

“Hey Rhett, I thought you were sick— oh, wow, you’re not Rhett, I am _so_ sorry,” but damn if she doesn’t look like Rhett. The hair, the eyes, the height… they could be siblings. Stevie’s staring, and covers the sudden awkward stretch by poking fun at Link, “Link, you can't bring your girlfriends here.”

Link’s left in the lurch with a fresh wave of awkwardness as he tries and fails to laugh it off, which thankfully goes mostly unnoticed because of Rhett’s snap decision to let Stevie in on the joke. 

“Stevie, it’s me!” she hushes her voice like it’s a secret as she comes in and wraps Stevie in a loose hug, adding, “It’s Rhett, don’t tell, we’re messing with everybody.”

“What the—“

“I’ll explain later, promise,” she says, “Just play along.”

They don’t have much to worry about there because Stevie needs some time to process this. She just stands and watches as the interaction starts again as Eddie and Alex come by, empty coffee mugs in hand and headed for the kitchen for a refill, both of them stoping short when they sees Link standing there with a woman they don’t recognize. 

“Hey Link, who’s your friend?” Alex asks. 

It’s a way different greeting than they might get on another day. Not that Alex is usually rude, but he’s usually more casual, more bawdy, and certainly not this polite. While Alex is technically talking to Link, he’s certainly looking at Rhett. 

Link finds himself suddenly uncomfortable with that and he doesn’t know why. People look at Rhett all the time and it’s never bothered him. It’s just the way he’s looking, the way they both are. Appreciative, like they’re seeing things in Rhett they haven’t noticed before, even without knowing it’s Rhett. To be sure, there’s a hell of a lot that’s new, but strangely, there’s almost more that’s the same. It’s just more obvious now, somehow. Harder to ignore. 

“Yeah, Link, who’s your friend?” Rhett asks with a sly grin, an elbow bumping into Link’s ribs and jostling him out of his thoughts. 

“Uhh… she’s amazing isn't she? Little crazy, but I love her,” Link fumbles awkwardly because coming up with lies on the spot is not his strong suit. There’s a reason that Sink Mirror joke made it into Buddy System. 

“Oh, yeah?” a giggle erupts out of Alex, who’s looking between the both of them with a wide smile on his face. 

Rhett’s having a hard time not laughing too, she’s just enjoying this so damn much. She’s smiling wide, the smile crinkling the corners of her eyes and she moves in close to Link and slips an arm around his waist. All eyes are on her and there’s a high she gets from that, from being the center of attention. It’s a high she’s gonna ride for all it’s worth, which is evident in how she leans in to kiss Link’s cheek. Link kind of half leans away the same as he always does, just a _little_ , but Rhett doesn’t let him - snags him by the jaw and tugs him back in for it. 

“Aww, I love you too, bo,” she lingers and lets her nose brush against Link’s cheek before pulling back, really hamming it up for the audience. Meanwhile, Link doesn’t think he’s ever been quite this flustered before when their jokes take this turn. The closest he thinks he’s ever come was the plexiglass kiss that had felt too overt, made him feel too vulnerable. 

Rhett’s messing around here, playing for laughs and reactions. But at the same time, it’s not so far beyond reality, or what she might like reality to be. Rhett does love Link. They’ve even said it to each other before, but it’s always (mostly) come off in this brotherly way, even if it isn’t entirely, at least for Rhett. There’s a hint of this that’s _real_ , but right now she’s not thinking about that — she’s just thinking about the pitch perfect reactions she’s getting from Eddie and Alex, eyes wide and struggling not to laugh. 

“I’m Rhiannon,” Rhett introduces herself, not bothering to extricate herself from hanging all over Link to reach out and shake Alex’s hand. 

Taking it, Alex chuckles, “Rhiannon, huh? You sure do have a type, Link…” his attention drifting to Link towards the end there. 

Stevie’s initial disbelief that this is actually Rhett has worn away and in it’s wake, she’s just shaken with the realization that this is _Rhett_. 

“Uh, excuse me,” she says and disappears for the bathroom. She doesn’t bother locking the door behind herself because she’s not using it, she just stands leaning forward on the counter and staring down her reflection in the mirror. 

“Deep breaths… it’s gonna be okay. You can handle this. Just don’t fuck your boss. How hard can it be?”

Jen walks into the bathroom from the other door and stops short when she realizes Stevie’s there and is preparing to back out and apologize when she catches what it is that she’s saying. 

“I thought you didn’t like guys.”

“I don’t,” Stevie says, looking over at Jen, her eyes wide and still slightly overwhelmed by all of this. She never thought this was something she’d have to worry about at this job, but here she is. 

“Uhh… ‘kay.” Jen excuses herself from the bathroom. By the time she makes her way to the kitchen, everyone has gravitated there. There’s a split second of confusion watching Eddie and Alex flirting with the tall blond who’s sitting on a stool at the counter, swinging her legs as they make her a cup of tea before it clicks that _that’s Rhett_. 

“Holy shit,” she breathes from the doorway, and after a beat she pulls out her phone and texts Stevie: _’Thoughts and prayers, hun.’_

Because _damn._

Something that Eddie’s said has Rhett laughing and Jen has to wonder if she’s got any idea that they’re flirting with her. Jen’s seen it enough and been on that side of it enough to know what it is, and while she doesn’t think that Rhett’s inexperienced with flirting, she doubts he’s been on this side of it before. You know, not like this anyway. 

It’s interesting, though, to watch Link react to the whole thing. He looks not a little bit like a disapproving, slightly jealous boyfriend trying to keep that jealousy under wraps. It’s not really that surprising, actually. 

She’s still reeling from the sheer _what the hell_ factor of it all when Chase walks in, half of a luke warm cup of coffee in hand, and takes one look at the scene in front of him. 

“Hey Rhett, Link,” and goes to the sink to dump out his old coffee and pour himself fresh. It wasn’t a slip, like at first with Stevie before she caught herself — Chase just knew, without question or hesitation. 

“I thought you were sick today… feeling better?” Chase turns and looks at Rhett, striking up a conversation while Alex and Eddie react. 

“Wait, Rhett?”

“What the—“

“No way, dude, _what?_ ”

“Sur-priiiiise,” Rhett grins, drawing out the word in that signature southern drawl that has much of the same area of effect as it does when she’s a he (not that they acknowledge that openly), and takes a victory sip of her tea, eyes crinkling over the rim of the mug. She’s damn pleased with herself. 

“ _’Rhiannon,’_ ” Eddie parrots the fake name back at Rhett and gives her a playful shove. “You jerk. Were you ever gonna tell us?”

“Wanted to see how long it’d take to figure it out.” 

“How did you figure it out, Chase?” Link asks, looking over at the young crew member. 

“Just look at her! Same mole, same eyebrows, same smile,” he smiles as reaches for the creamer for his coffee. “Plus she acts exactly the same. It’s obvious.”

Link wonders what it is that kept him from seeing it. Of anyone, he should have figured it out without it being spelled out for him. After all, he’s known Rhett the longest of anyone. Why had it been so hard for him to see and understand when it’s so easy to recognize and accept for the others?


	4. Pour Some Sugar On Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhett and Link film the [Exploding Soda Challenge](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XSioQUA8hLc), and then frankly address gender in More. 
> 
> And afterwards, things start to happen...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanna give a big thank you to Crazyquantum for his help with Rhett Rants (TM), and his endless capacity for offering feedback, ideas and support. 
> 
> P.S. The smut starts here.

“I can’t believe we’re gonna film today…” Link says for maybe the fifth time.

The crew, who hadn’t started getting the set in order when they thought Rhett was staying home sick, is busy now putting everything out that they’re gonna need for the day’s shoot. Stevie’s looking over last minute details while Jen and Lizzie are making sure that the outfit they had for Rhett is gonna fit today, given the situation.

“C’mon, man, it’ll be fun. Besides, can you imagine the views we’re gonna get? Twenty bucks says we’ll hit #1 in Trending in the first hour,” she claps a hand tight on Link’s shoulder and shakes him, Rhett’s excited energy coming out between them the way it always does, a playful excuse to touch him.

“I’m just saying, is it wise?” After all, considering just _which episode_ they’re planning on filming, Link’s got some reservations.

“Worried I’m gonna kick your ass?” Rhett comes back at him with that familiar crazy glint in her eye, and it’s almost scary just how _Rhett_ she is.

And, it was something like that. Link doesn’t need to worry about thinking up a response to her question because Stevie interrupts them.

“Hey, so, how ‘bout before we start, we do hair and makeup?” To Stevie’s credit, she’s managing to keep herself under control even if she does think she sounds a little nervous. Everything’s alright, there’s no reason to panic. The simple fact that her boss is suddenly a really, really hot woman isn’t a reason to go to pieces. Besides, he’s still married. _She_ is, you know. Oh Lord, have Rhett and Jesse… like _this?_ That’s a thought that’s not helping even a little bit.

Rhett looks up from her laptop and twists a short little piece of hair by her ear between her fingers for effect as she asks, “Are you saying you don’t like my hair?”

Rhett’s intentionally trying to come off like she’s offended. Reason being, hair and makeup is a daily routine before shooting and the fact that Stevie’s asking that way is hilarious and she wants to rub it in. Rhett’s not done messing with the crew just yet.

“No, it’s cute! I just thought—“

“We can do more than usual. It’d be fun,” Lizzie interjects.

“And we might as well play it up while we can, y’know?” Jen chimes in from her spot across the room, looking up from the laptop perched in her lap.

Rhett supposes that’s true enough. It really doesn’t take much to talk Rhett into being the center of attention for a little while. The handful of other times either of them have ended up at the girls’ mercy for more than the usual level of hair and makeup have been for skits on the show or music videos, either for a look or for a gag, never really seriously. Not that this feels very _serious_ (there’s a lot of laughter throughout) but it’s different.

The four of them are going through the supplies in the prop room, Rhett more involved usual, picking colors and giving opinions.

“We gonna do like, foundation and the whole nine yards?” Rhett asks, brows knitted together as she fishes through beigey bottles and tubes.

“Mayyybe,” Lizzie draws the word out, leaning in to pick up a little vial so she can hold two up in front of Rhett’s face side by side. “Oh, look, you’ve got freckles! Maybe we should keep it light so we don’t cover them up?”

Lizzie’s looking at the others for opinions here, and gets a nod from Jen, “Yeah, keep it light.”

Rhett’s not surprised about the freckles, with the number of moles and body freckles he’s always had.

“Want me to do your hair?” Stevie asks, picking up a stray tin of Mythical Pomade as she half-sits on the countertop, looking at Rhett appraisingly. She’s thinking something similar but not so similar to the usual, maybe swept more one way than the other…

“Nah, I got it. I do it every day, you know,” Rhett had been planning to just leave it down and go for a kind of cute pixie sort of look, but she sees the appeal of doing it up, too. It’ll heighten that initial double-take.

“Oh, yeah. Of course,” Stevie says, looking like she feels a little embarrassed to have made the offer. She passes over the pomade to Rhett who takes it and dabs a bit out into her hands and considers her reflection in the mirror for a second or two and talks, gesturing with her hands as she looks back at the girls in the mirror.

“Should I do something a little different? Like, not straight up but maybe…”

“Like, swept to one side?” Stevie offers, gesturing in front of her own face what she’s thinking.

“Yeah, maybe…”

When Rhett comes back and settles in at the desk to get started with the show, Link’s glad he wasn’t already sitting in his seat and waiting on Rhett to start because he needs a second to process this.

Rhett’s hair isn’t unlike the way it always is. It’s _Rhett_ but it’s kind of side-swept and funky. She’s made up, too — not a lot, but she is. It looks good, really good, and it’s pretty subtle, but Link finds himself wishing they hadn’t. Like they’d somehow hidden the best parts of Rhett under it.

“I’m gonna grab some water before we start,” Link says, picking up the tall glass water bottle they keep just off camera and heads off for the kitchen. “Want anything while I’m up?”

“Nah, I’m good, thanks,” Rhett can’t help but think about how the last time Link’s been thoughtful like this was on a heavy back pain day. She can’t help but wonder if being a woman is having an effect on how Link treats her. It’s kind of funny, but Rhett wants to address it, because should it really change that much between them? Rhett doesn’t feel like it should.

But that’s gonna have to wait. It’s not a conversation for before the show.

 

——————————————————————————————————

 

“Today, we’re gonna explode-us some soda,” Rhett begins, leaning into Link’s space more and more as she delivers the line. It’s not so unusual a thing. In fact, the two of them spend so much time pushing at the boundaries between them on the show that it’s become something of a thing. It didn’t start off necessarily intentional. It was just this organic thing, just the way the two of them interacted. And it wasn’t always like this, there was a point a while back where it wasn’t so give and take, where things seemed a little strained at times, maybe even a little one-sided. They’ve come a long way since then, some things have settled and others have gone on unspoken but they’ve hit this okay place where they’re comfortable playing with that ambiguity.

Rhett’s having a hard time containing her glee at the whole situation today. If there’s one thing Rhett loves it’s having a good reason to take over the center of attention, and this is a hell of a big attention draw.

“Let’s talk about that,” Link chimes in.

After the pause to have a clean cut for the intro, they go through their planned preamble until Rhett veers them off script.

“…no matter what you call it, today we’re gonna get it all over ourselves,” Rhett says, leaning ever so subtly closer to Link as she moves in her seat, gesturing towards the camera as she talks.

“Mhm, because today we’re gonna play a game involving some fizz, our knowledge of the soda biz, and the element of surprizz.”

“Mm,” comes the usual judgmental hum from Rhett that says she doesn’t quite approve of Link’s attempts for a joke, but she still takes that opportunity to commandeer the conversation, “Well, speaking of _surprizz_ ,” she lays hard on that made-up word to pick on Link, “y’all might not have noticed, but today I’m a woman.”

“Wait, WHAT?!” Link puts on shock and turns to Rhett like this is the first time he’s noticed it. Somewhere off camera, one of the girls is trying hard to muffle her laughing.

“You didn’t notice?” Rhett asks, smirking as she turns to look at Link.

“No!”

“Well I was last I checked, anyway,” Rhett comments and peeks down the front of her dress like maybe she was wrong, to the backdrop of more laughter from the crew.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Link manages to sound hurt, trying to detract from the attention that Rhett’s playing into because he’s afraid this is going south, and fast.

“I didn’t think that was my job,” Rhett says chuckling, grinning broadly over at Link. “Sorta thought you’d figured it out when I showed up to work with these.”

Rhett doesn’t say it out loud, but the way she squeezes her arms in tight against her body causes her breasts to press in together, catching some of the fabric of the cactus dress between them and it has the net effect of drawing (everyone’s) attention to exactly what she was talking about, leaving no room for guessing incorrectly.

Link feels this moment of panic grip him — he’s helpless to do anything but following Rhett’s gaze down to her chest. _This is going to be a long show._ Link isn’t sure how they’re ever going to be able to air it.

There’s a number of moments that are so classically Rhett that somehow hit harder today than they often do. At least for Link. Like when Rhett comments about how she’s exposing her soda shorts, and makes a short shorts joke about it.

By the time they hit the lightning round, Link’s anxiety is through the roof. Their clothes are going to end up drenched and see through, which was bad enough if the day had gone to plan (Link’s almost certain his shorts are going to end up obscene by the end of this) but now he’s got so much more to worry about. Rhett seems not to care or realize the risk that’s at stake here, and the rush of adrenaline of guessing through the lightning round questions keep her from slowing down enough to consider it.

In fact, they manage to wrap the scene before Rhett gets the sense that something’s amiss. That ‘sense’ comes from a combination of glances that dip down and others that avoid her entirely, and she glances down at herself and realizes.

“Oh, ho-ho, gosh,” her laughter shaking through her body as she folds her arms over her chest to help gain control over the situation, concealing herself from everyone. For her sake, and everyone else’s. She supposes it’s her fault, really — she’d only come with the one bra, and didn’t want to sacrifice it to the soda, so she’d gone without for the lightning round. Maybe that was a mistake (depending on how you were looking at it).

“Sorry ‘bout that… maybe I’ll hit the shower first?” Rhett’s looking at Link as she asks, but he can barely look at her as he nods yes. Rhett would worry about that, wonder just what it was, except that she can see the slow creep of mottled pink rising from the wet collar of his shirt. Link’s trying so hard not to look, not to be obvious that he’s obvious regardless.

After two showers and time spent drying and re-styling, they’re back in their seats, ever so slightly damp and ready to film the outro and the More.

They finally got to the question that Link had been wanting to ask all day. He looked thoughtfully at Rhett and asked, "So how is life different in this body?”

Rhett takes a deep breath in. After more than thirty years, Link knows when a Rhett-rant is coming. But just this once, Link's curiosity was overtaking his frustration. Instead of Link's signature eye roll, he found himself leaning in closer to her, eager to hear his best friend’s answer.

“The first time I braved leaving the house like this, it only took me 10 minutes to be cat-called. I remember feeling vulnerable, disgusting, and scared. This guy was so aggressive and gross. When I went home and told my wife, she said 'that happens all the time' and I cried. Link, I cried. I cried because I never realized all the crap people get just because they have a body like mine.

“But really? I'm the exact same person I was yesterday. The only thing that changed was my physical body. I'm still the same old Rhett you met when you were in first grade.”

At this point Rhett's voice was raising and her hands were shaking. She was clearly getting very upset.

“Gender is made up people! It's totally made up. When the world ends it won't matter if you want to wear a dress or pants. It won't matter what section of a store you got your shoes in. GENDER IS A SOCIAL CONSTRUCT.”

Link could feel his jaw drop. And right before he could even begin to respond Stevie was swooping in to save the day. She took Rhett by the arm and gently led her off set for what appeared to be a pep talk. Finally Link heard a giggle and a shout of ‘SOYLENT GREEN IS PEOPLE!’

 

——————————————————————————————————

 

Rhett’s got no idea what possessed her to do it.

Except she does. It’s always the same thing. It’s this tension that’s built up between them, it just gets to Rhett sometimes. When it feels like they’ve gone too long without those not-so-accidental touches that usually are enough to carry her through, it’s like she’s gotta do something. Like she’s compelled to bridge the distance between them.

Link’s stretched out on the reclining sofa with his eyes closed, his arms up over his head, holding onto the back of the sofa loosely with one hand, the other hand curled in his hair. Something just comes over Rhett and she _knows_ it’s a bad idea before she starts, but it doesn’t stop her from launching herself at Link. It’s not graceful in the slightest — a knee plants against the sofa to Link’s right and she uses the leverage to throw herself over him. The landing is awkward. It’s really always awkward. Even when Rhett’s not a woman, even when it happens as a tackle that lands them both face down, it’s still an awkward tumble. That’s the point and it always has been. The Dead Move has always just been a thin excuse to end up pressed up against Link, close enough that Rhett can feel the shorter man’s breath quicken as he pretends to hate it (is he pretending?), feel the fight in him as their bodies fit together in the rough friction of the moment.

This time, though, it might be more awkward than Rhett remembers it being in recent memory. They’re facing each other — which always makes it _different_ , to say the least — it always means Link fights harder, swears more, desperate not to let their bodies align. He’s always madder after. Not that it ever stops Rhett from pulling it again. It’s fewer and further between these days, but Rhett still brings it out now and then, when the need to bridge this distance between them is unbearable.

Like now.

“Rhett!”

“I’m dead!”

“You’re _not!_ ” Link voice rises in a panic as he finds himself with a lap full of Rhett. _A lap full_ because Rhett doesn’t land quite the way she’d planned to, and the nature of the reclining sofa means that if the weight on the recliner isn’t distributed evenly, it doesn’t stay reclined — it snaps back upright.

Rhett’s losing her balance and laughing as her landing fumbles, “oh shit.”

She’s trying desperately to catch herself, not so keen on just face planting into him. Rhett’s so used to being so much bigger than Link is that she doesn’t grab for his shoulder to steady herself as she’s falling into him, unwilling to put quite that much weight directly on him (even though, now, it wouldn’t be as much as she imagines it would be). Instead she grabs for the back of the sofa as it moves into its upright position. The end result of the comical, slow fall is that Rhett finds herself landing in Link’s lap, straddling him.

And Link finds himself with his face in her chest.

Rhett’s frozen, caught in this moment of silent panic. It feels like her heart is pounding in her ears and she can’t stop thinking _what is Link going to do?_

That’s always the question. Sometimes there’s a moment when Rhett pulls the dead move on Link, in between complaints, where something shifts between them. Sometimes Rhett dares to grind himself down against Link just to see if he’d do anything. If he’d call him on it. He’s never said anything, not ever, but _sometimes_ he reacts. Leans up into him or gasps, the sound breathy and hard-won, and Rhett remembers it all, stores away every last near-moan he’s stolen from Link in those moments when he’s got him held down.

This time wasn’t entirely intentional, except that it’s always intentional. Rhett just wants so badly to move that it aches through her body, in the palms of her hands and her thighs, that she gives beneath the weight of it. Somehow convinces herself that breaking just a little won’t be so bad, so telling, that there’s still room to come back out of this unscathed.

She starts to move against him. It’s slow, real slow, slow enough that she tells herself it’s subtle when it’s anything but. Her skirt’s hiked up from their position and the skin-tight leggings don’t leave much to the imagination between them.

It’s the first time Link’s really been made aware of the difference in Rhett’s body today. It’s not that he hasn’t noticed — he has, how could he not have? — but he hasn’t _felt it_. He knows the usual press of Rhett’s body, and he’s lying to himself to say that he doesn’t. Between the dozens of times they’ve found themselves pressed together for one reason or another, not to mention that night with the rum, he knows how Rhett’s body should feel.

The difference between what he expects and how Rhett feels is jarring.

Link can feel the heat of her body as she grinds down against him. The denim of his jeans dampens the sensation somewhat, but the friction still sparks through him, the heat of her body seeping through. He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

This close, he can feel as much as see the heavy rise and fall of Rhett’s chest as she breathes deep. They don’t need to talk for Link to know, to feel it in Rhett’s body language — _overwhelmed_. He is, too.

Unfamiliar sized fingers curl in Link’s hair and it’s not quite so unfamiliar, actually, between the way she grips tight and the sound she makes when she’s trying desperately to stay silent for fear of breaking this spell between them.

The both of them are trying so hard to stay silent, afraid of what happens next if they don’t.

It would take no effort at all to press his face between her breasts and breathe in the warm scent of her body. The cut of the cactus dress would allow his mouth to find skin — it would be _easy_ but he’s afraid to push.

Helplessly, Link’s growing hard beneath her. It’s shocking just how much she can feel it, how aware she is of it. Her eyes slip closed and she exhales slowly, tongue coming out over her lips to wet them as she lets herself sink just a little bit more down against him.

Link’s looking up at her in that moment, gaze dropping down to her mouth, following the drag of her tongue as it traces her lips. He’s overwhelmed with how badly he wants to kiss her. He’s caught up in his thoughts, frozen by this desire he can’t make sense of.

He’s kissed Rhett before, but he hardly remembers the most recent time, he’d been so drunk, and before that was years ago, young, fumbling about, practicing on each other. It feels foreign to think of kissing Rhett without the consideration of the beard — does he miss that?

She explores the hot press of him, denim-clad against her, the way she moves growing a little bolder as she fits herself against him as much as she can with this much clothing in the way. She can feel the shivery warmth of Link’s breath over her neck and _fuck_ , it feels like her body is alive in a way it never has been before. She aches for more, but at the same time, has this odd sense that this could almost be enough if she just dared to take.

They have to stop or they won’t be able to. They could just keep moving, daring for more and taking inch by inch until, wordless, they were fucking on this sofa in the nap loft in the middle of the studio. But that’s not how this should be, midday at work, easily overheard. If this is going to happen now, without the push of alcohol or the guise of teenage exploration, they’ve got to address it. They’ve got to break out of this bubble they’re wrapped up in and face this.

Rhett’s hand comes down to Link’s shoulder and squeezes tight, steeling herself more than communicating anything to Link, so that she’s capable of easing back enough that when she opens her mouth she can get something out other than a moan.

“Can you take me home?” Rhett asks, her voice so thick with desire she may well have been saying _I need you_.


	5. Please Don't Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FEELS. < / 3

But it seems like Link misses it entirely. 

“Oh, sure… lemme just grab my stuff.”

And just like that, with that dispassionate tone of his voice, the spell is broken. Link’s looking off to the side like he’s trying to focus on anything but Rhett. Like he’s just been waiting for her to move so he can stand. Like she’s an inconvenience. Rhett can’t get away fast enough. 

Rhett’s wondered in the past if he was just imagining it, but the tension has always felt real, as real Link’s dick had, hardening in his jeans. That’s why this is so confusing, why it hurts so much to land in the same place again and again. Rhett’s not sure why she thought it would be different today suddenly. 

Actually, yes, she does. She’d started to wonder a while back whether the thing keeping this from happening was the fact that she was male — wondered if the reasons why Link holds back would disappear if only Rhett wasn’t a man. It was an impossible what-if. That is, until all of this had started to happen. 

Rhett hadn’t planned to tell Link about these seemingly out of the blue days where he woke up a woman, but like so many other things in their lives, it happened anyway. Link always finds a way in, and usually that’s fine. Usually it’s what Rhett wants, what he needs, someone to sit with him side by side, closer than close to him. Close enough that to practically crawl inside him and hear the beating of his heart and how brain works. 

It made it that much worse now, because not only does Rhett know that it hadn’t just been his gender but _him_ that Link hadn’t been interested it, Link’s aware of the whole thing too. Rhett’s upset that she’d let herself be this vulnerable when she’s gotten this message from him time and time again. How many times does she need to be turned down before it finally sinks in?

“Yeah, take your time… I’ll be downstairs,” Rhett leaves the loft. She just needs to get away from Link before she’s ends up doing something stupid. 

She manages to avoid everyone while getting her bag from the prop room and double-checks that the house keys are still clipped to the handle, and fishes her phone out of the side pocket. While the dress does have pockets, they’re not big enough to keep a phone in, which has to be the only downside to wearing a dress. In all other ways, they’re far superior to pants — as comfortable as pajamas and way more breathable. If it were more socially acceptable, she’d give real consideration to wearing them regularly — when Rhett’s a he. 

Rhett pulls a hoodie off of the back of a chair in the prop room. It’s about the only thing right now that she thinks will fit her. She’s not looking forward to the car ride ahead, and if it wouldn’t just make it worse she’d try and find an alternate way home. Instead, she pulls the hoodie on and goes to zip it up, but it won’t zip past her hips. Rhett hikes the bottom of it up and gets it started at her waist with the plan of pushing it down once it’s done up, but as soon as it’s zipped past her belly, there’s a new problem — she can’t zip it past her boobs. She takes a break, shoves the bottom of the hoodie down over her hips and tries again. She grabs both sides of the zipper and gives a tug like she can gain some miraculous spare inch of the hoodie and make it work. It just won’t, though, and trying again just puts her in danger of catching the fabric of her dress in the teeth of the zipper so she finally gives up and leaves the zip hovering somewhere over her belly, shoves her phone in the pocket and shoulders her bag before going out to wait for Link near the back of the building so they can leave. 

It’s almost ten minutes before Link shows up and Rhett’s starting to be almost more annoyed than she is hurt. It’s easier to be annoyed and angry, to focus on that than it is to be hurt. She’ll get over this eventually, move on, be okay. She’s put herself out there before, not quite like this… but more than this, actually. Rhett didn’t think she’d ever recover after Link got drunk on rum, the morning after when she woke alone. When she learned that Link wasn’t going to address it, was going to act like nothing happened at all. That’s maybe worse than this, but there’d been the blanket of drunkenness to hide beneath, that layer of plausible deniability, that _maybe_ Link didn’t quite know what had happened. It’s bullshit and Rhett knows it, but as time stretched away from that night it was easier to hold on to the ‘what if’s’ and ‘maybes’ than it was to let the full force of reality crush her again. Grimly, she wonders just what she’ll do to sweep it under the rug this time. 

“I’m ready to go, sorry about that,” Link says as he appears. As he stands fishing for his car keys in his pocket, he can’t help but notice that Rhett’s wearing his blue hoodie. It’s got to be intentional. He doesn’t even question it, because surely Rhett would have realized it wasn’t hers, right? It’s kind of arguable whether or not Rhett would even fit into her own hoodies now, considering, but wearing Link’s, there’s not a prayer of getting it zipped all the way up. Link kind of smiles to himself, in spite of himself, as he fishes around finds his keys, glancing down to try to hide the heat he feels rising in his cheeks as he checks that he’s got his phone. 

Rhett’s not looking that closely and misses it entirely, just nods with a little noise of agreement and heads off outside ahead of Link. 

Link knew he’d fucked up upstairs, knew it the second he saw the look on Rhett’s face change, how fast she moved to get up. He hadn’t known what to say or do to make it right, so he just let her leave. Selfishly, he’d needed a minute to gather his thoughts and try and will his erection away. As it would happen, mentally replaying a huge fuck-up and cringing helps with that. But it still wasn’t gone. 

And he was still sort of panicked. 

This was all… it was just a lot. A lot for one day. 

But that’s just a cop out, it’s blaming all of this on the fact that Rhett had woken up in that body rather than taking responsibility for his own feelings. And the truth of the matter was that Link’s had feelings for Rhett for years. He’s just been too chicken to say anything. The closest he’d ever gotten was that night when he’d let the excuse of the rum take the blame for his actions, and even then he’d still never actually said anything. 

Then, the further and further away they got from that night, the more impossible it was to speak up, because what if he was wrong? What if it was just… just one of those things? Just guys, friends messing around when it's convenient, to let off steam, relieve tension, something that doesn’t come with messy things like feelings?

It’s naive to think that the two of them were capable of doing anything without emotions getting wrapped up in it, but it’s where Link goes back to every time, this paranoia that he’s alone in this. That if he spoke up, he’d find out that he was the butt of the joke, that he had been for years, and he didn’t think he could stand that. It was selfish, he realized now, thoughtless. 

The drive home was silent except for the radio. 

Link kept wishing that Rhett would say something, _anything_. The song changed over to a fun, upbeat song that he knew Rhett liked (and has frequently sung along to in the past just to get a laugh) and he glances over at her, hopeful for some reaction. But she’s just sitting there staring out the window, hands stuffed deep in the pockets of the hoodie, doing everything in her power to keep from focusing on anything inside the car. 

It’s just easier that way. If she doesn’t look at Link, if she doesn’t register him there at all, maybe she can make it into the house without making this worse somehow. The girls aren’t supposed to be back with the kids until tomorrow, which is for the best, under the circumstances.

Something’s got to give, here. Link can’t sit here knowing she’s this upset and say nothing. Time’s running out the closer they get to Rhett’s house, and ultimately that’s what pushes him to speak up. He doesn’t have any more clue what to say the longer they sit there in silence. He’s been debating asking if she’s alright, but it seems like an easy way for Rhett to just say _I’m fine._

“You look nice in my hoodie.”

Rhett looks down at herself, realizing her mistake all of a sudden. _Shit._ She can’t believe she didn’t catch it before this — of course it was Link’s. It’s obviously his, now that she looks at it, now that she slows down enough to think. In the moment, she’d been angry and barely paying attention, and clothes all fit so strange on this body that even one of her hoodies wouldn’t have fit quite right. 

That explains why it just wouldn’t zip up over her chest. 

“You don’t think that. Don’t lie to me,” Rhett says, barely audible, bitterness twisting her voice. She’s leaning barely perceptibly closer to the door, desperate for Link to get them there so she can leave this conversation. If only it wasn’t Monday. The prospect of having to come back tomorrow, of not even getting the break of a weekend before she’s got to face him is overwhelming. 

“What? What makes you think that?”

“You just don’t. I dunno why it took me so long to figure it out,” Rhett slips into uneasy silence, still staring out the window, wishing she was anywhere but here. Wishing she was having any conversation other than this one. 

“Figure what out?” Link asks, voice small and helplessly a step behind as always. 

“That you don’t like me like that. I dunno how I’ve managed to be this stupid when you’ve been saying it loud and clear for years. I thought it was just… I dunno what I thought.” Her voice is shaking. She can feel tears threatening to come, and she’s desperate not to cry. Not now, not here when she’s minutes from the house — minutes from escaping this. She takes a breath to steel herself and keeps talking before Link can manage to butt in. 

“I thought it was on account of being a guy. Figured you just didn’t swing that way,” _’unless you’re real drunk’_ goes unspoken, “But I was wrong. It’s just me. I’m just… I’m too tall, too awkward… too goofy lookin’. I’m not even pretty like this,” and that’s where her voice starts to break, where tears start to blur her vision, and she’s steadfastly avoiding looking in Link’s direction. “Figures, you know? The only guy in the world who wakes up a woman sometimes, and I’m not even a good lookin’ one.”

“Rhett—“

“Just leave it,” Rhett says, “It’s fine. I’ll be fine. S’not like it’s anything new. I’m used to it.”

“Rhett, stop,” Link starts, knows that Rhett’s clamming up because they’re pulling into the driveway. Knows she’s locking her upset down because the second the car brakes, she’s gonna bolt. Before the car’s even parked, Rhett undoes her seatbelt. 

“See you tomorrow.”

“Rhett,” Link says, reaching out for Rhett as soon as the car’s in park, his hand landing against her knee. 

Rhett freezes then. Just stops dead, hand hovering there on the door handle, itching to leave but still waiting. Still so rolled up in feeling for Link that even now, even feeling so rejected, she’ll still sit here and subject herself to more, just because it means Link’s taking the time to pay her attention. She hates herself for that, for how willing she is to put herself in harms way over and over again just because Link happens to glance her way. She closes her eyes, the motion sending tears slipping down her cheeks. 

“Just stop,” she pushes back, knee drawing away from Link, towards the door, her whole body angled away. Body language screaming _escape_. Link undoes his seatbelt. 

“You’re wrong. I’m an idiot, I just… just. I don’t have any excuse. I was just a coward. I was afraid of what it said about me, more afraid of that than I was about what it was doing to you.” 

Rhett’s heart is beating hard in her chest, barely breathing as she feels herself desperately straining to hear the next word, like she can will him to go on. _God, she’s pathetic…_

“I love how tall you are. And you’re not awkward, you’re beautiful. Rhett,” Link’s voice is soft, pleading. 

But there’s the twist. Rhett wasn’t wrong — Link thinks she’s beautiful _like this._ That’s not what she wanted. She’s thought it might be okay, might be enough if Link could only entertain the thought of it on days like this, but she knows that’s not a viable option. It hurts too much. 

Rhett can’t even respond it hurts so much, but she needs Link to stop touching her. She shifts her leg, tries to shake Link’s hand off her thigh and succeeds — Link pulls his hand back like he’d been smacked off — but it’s brief, because just as quickly, he’s seeking out her hand, tugging it out of the pocket of her hoodie. 

“Get off,” she sniffs, abandoning the door handle in favor of swatting at Link’s hand. 

“Rhett,” Link protests, voice heavy with emotion, upset that he just seems to be making this worse. Rhett smacks his hand off, but he tries again, terrified that she’s going to bolt, that they’ll never find their way back to this conversation. 

“I fucking get it, okay! You think I’m a pretty girl.” The heavy emphasis in her words make it clear just how she’d read Link’s. 

“Not just a pretty girl… you’re gorgeous. Yesterday, today, tomorrow… always. I always thought you were the best lookin’ thing—“

 _“Stop,”_ Rhett all but sobs, unable to take it in, so upset she can’t think anymore. Her free hand dives for the door handle again but, in the blur of her tears, misses by a mile and instead grabs hold of the little part of it you grab to tug the door shut. 

That’s when Link leans across the console, hand coming up to catch Rhett by the jaw, to guide her into a kiss. It’s jarring for them both — for Link because Rhett doesn’t have the beard. One of the few things that managed to linger through the rum haze of his memory of that night was the soft brush of Rhett’s beard, the size of his body and the weight of him. It’s so foreign to kiss him and find it’s _not him_ but her, still the same person. 

It’s jarring for Rhett because it’s overwhelming. She hadn’t been alone in this, Link had been there, the both of them thinking they were alone in this the whole damn time. She wants to keep crying but she wants to laugh, has to wonder just how much longer they might have gone like this, too cowardly to say something, grasping at straws and jumping at any excuse to touch because it’s better than nothing. 

The kiss is motionless and hesitant, but not for long; it’s like the calm before the storm because all at once the full force of the weight of this thing between them came crashing over Rhett and she couldn’t move fast enough against the current. A hand catches against Link’s shoulder, one long leg folding up and, twisting in the passenger’s seat, she’s trying to climb across the console and into Link’s lap, right there in the driver’s seat, parked in the driveway, in broad daylight, in front of her house. 

She’s spanning the whole front seat — one leg on the passenger’s side and trying to gain leverage to help haul herself up, the other trying to find a place to land her knee beside Link. 

It’s when Link feels her leg graze his inner thigh in her (failing) efforts that he pulls back from the kiss, hand cupped against her cheek and stroking down her neck as he breathes, “Not here…” 

“Why not?” Rhett pushes back into Link’s space, reaching for the oh-shit handle on the car’s roof liner for the leverage she needs. 

“Cause I waited decades for this, I’m not gonna fuck you in the car.”


	6. Like A Prayer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And finally, smut!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get somewhere safe.

“…you really want that?” Rhett breathes, so overwhelmed by how it feels to hear Link actually say those words out loud. _Decades_. It twists something in her, and she wishes they were inside the house already, but she needs to hear it again. After all these years — after so many spurned attempts, _after that night_ — she needs more than that because otherwise she knows she won’t be able to stop winding up for the fall. 

Rhett needs to know this is something they’ll be able to live with once the fever passes. 

“Yeah. Rhett… I’m so sorry about that night… I couldn’t, I dunno,” he stops, floundering, so lost in the warm gray of Rhett’s eyes that it’s hard to think straight. He feels like he can’t escape them, like they’re boring through him, like somehow Rhett already knows what he’s about to say. “I was scared to say something. I wanted to. Gosh, Rhett, I wanted to say something so bad. I almost did so many times, but the longer and longer I waited, the worse it got so I just…” he lets the sentence fade, because they both know what had happened. Link had said nothing at all. 

“I’m so sorry,” he says it again, “I’m sorry if you felt used.”

“Oh, gosh,” Rhett breathes — that just does it. The tense uncertainty falls away then, knowing. There’s more to say, more to that conversation, but it’s gonna have to wait till later. Her gaze falls down to Link’s parted lips and she leans in to steal a kiss. She wishes they were inside the house already, because it feels impossible to pull away from Link now. 

“Can I take you home now?” Link says, shifting enough to pull from the kiss again. It’s the hardest thing in the world to do right now, to pull away from her, but they’ve got to or they’re going to end up naked in the car and (hot as that might be) it’s not how he wants it to be the first time. 

“Hell yes,” comes her eager response, but she only half gets the memo — she’s not moving yet to get off of Link and out of the car, still half in his lap.

“…that’s gonna require moving…”

Rhett comes inside barefoot, flip-flops abandoned in the car when she’d been crawling over the shifter, trying to find her way into Link’s lap and she hadn’t bothered to put them on again to come up the driveway to the door. 

The second they’re in the house, Rhett starts fighting with her hoodie, desperate to get it off. Link swoops in to help, his hands moving over and past hers, tugging the zip down and helping her off with it. 

Rhett’s trying to crowd Link up against the wall, the nearest surface, anywhere.

“Rhett,” he breathes, pulling back from Rhett’s insistent mouth as she slams him up against the wall of the foyer, hands going for the hem of his shirt, rucking it up so she can get a hand on the waist of his jeans. 

“Take off your pants, Neal,” she’s practically growling at him, demanding, edging into his space as sure fingers try and catch the button of his fly.

“No, Rhett, I want this to be special… c’mon, let’s go upstairs. I promise it’ll be worth it,” he murmurs the words practically into Rhett’s mouth she’s so close, as he keeps her at bay, hands moving against hers to stop her from stripping him right where they stand. 

“Okay… alright,” Rhett says, the agreement misleading as she fights against how Link keeps trying to push her off him. She manages to grab a fistful of his t-shirt and uses it to haul him in for a hard kiss. She won’t be put off so easy. 

When they move, they move together, Link only making progress to the staircase when he pushes into Rhett’s space, walking her backwards to the base of the stairs. They’ve got to part, then, and when they do, Link’s breathless, eyes bright as he urges, “Go on.”

They only make it partway upstairs before Rhett stops them on the center landing and attacks him, shoving him up against the wall bodily, the thud loud while fingertips dip into the waistband of those jeans. She uses the hold for balance as she sinks down to her knees, her attention fixed on those blue eyes that follow her all the way down. That watch as her attention shifts below the belt, her tongue slipping out between her lips in a gesture that’s so unmistakably _Rhett_. 

_”Fuck,”_ the word shakes out of Link. Rhett’s hands tease up his inner thigh, dragging along the inner seam of his jeans. He can hear and feel the scratch of her fingernails on the denim, shivers chasing shivers up his spine. One hand moves in easy to cup and cover him, the heel of her hand rubbing up along the line of his erection through those jeans. It’d be so easy to just _let her_. 

Let her tease and touch him, let her strip him down out in the middle of the house on the wide landing of the stairs. Let her peel the layers away and let herself in, taking until Link’s breathless and laid bare. There’s so much _not right_ about it, here, though. It’s a first, and he wants it to be special. And this is so reminiscent of last time, and Link wants anything but a repeat of that last, one-sided haze. 

He waits just a beat too long to try to stop her. Waits until she’s going for the button of his fly and then he’s going for her hands, pushing her off him. _They gotta do this right,_ but his hands are shaking with the struggle to hold on to enough willpower to make it upstairs. 

Rhett sees his hands shake and tries to use it as a way in. Sometimes it means nothing, just the way Link operates, too full of energy for his own good but sometimes it's a chink in his armor and Rhett leans in, presses her full lips against where she knows the head is and casts her gaze up, watching Link through her thick lashes as the exhale of her breath heats him through his jeans. She can feel his cock twitching against her mouth, and she grins wide and easy against his bulge as the groan is torn hard out of him. 

“Rhett, no,” Link breathes, the war raging in him shaking through his skin. 

“Just let me suck you,” she breathes into his jeans and tries again, hand going for his fly. She can remember how he tastes and she wants it, mouth watering at the memory, the prospect, how close she is to taking what she wants.

But Link's still fighting this, shaky hand grabbing for her wrist and using the hold to haul her to her feet. 

“Dammit Rhett, I'm gonna make love to you on a bed like a fucking gentleman. Now go,” Rhett doesn’t know if she’s ever heard him sound like this before, voice quite so hard and rough. 

And _fuck_ if that’s not the hottest thing Rhett’s ever heard him say.

“I don’t want no gentleman,” Rhett's voice slips low and the old southern lull seeps in, familiar and foreign all at once, not the same rough and rumbling lows that Rhett's capable of any other day. She's pressing into Link's space, trying for his pants again, trying for anything, still desperate to put her hands on him and Link continues to push back, unable to quite catch a hold of her. 

“I said _git,_ ” Link leans up into her space as he speaks, chin up to make himself seem taller, the way he always does when he squares off with Rhett. 

Just this time, he doesn't have quite so far to lean. 

Lord, even in Rhett’s wildest fantasies, she’s never imagined it being quite like this. Link’s need for control and Rhett’s eagerness to embrace the mess are always at war, but the way it translates into this new facet of their lives is so unbearably hot. It makes Rhett want to keep pushing just to make Link keep pushing back… but for now, the desire to let Link make good on his promise overwhelms the fight in her. 

For now. 

_“Fuck,”_ she all but moans, the word coming out heavy on the exhale, “…I’ll never get used to being this wet.”

 _Je_ sus.

Link’s eyes widen at her words and this sound rattles out of him that’s startled, thick and choked need and ends up lost between them. He kisses her mouth, hand moving from her neck to guide her in down to her hips to shove her back against the wall, his body fitting up against hers tight. So much for making it upstairs. 

Rhett can feel how hard he is pressed against her thigh and any shred of her that had plans to behave and head on upstairs are gone, her hands fishing up under Link’s shirt, eager to peel it off him. Link is apparently deciding this isn’t how he wants it to go, but he’s only half capable of changing directions, still kissing her, still rocking his hips against her thigh, but he’s grappling for her hands. He gets one and then the other, thinking he can just let go once he’s got them away from him — he wants to keep his clothes on for now, wants to focus on her, damnit — but apparently he can’t. 

Because Rhett is relentless. Every time Link lets go of a hand, it’s back on that long, lean body, trying to yank his shirt off, dragging nails along his back in what seems like calculated efforts to tear his resolve away, until finally Link doesn’t have a choice, until he catches both hands in his and pins them to the wall. _Hard._

The sound Rhett makes is going to haunt Link for the rest of his life. 

It’s this hollow sound like all the air in the room went out and Rhett can’t catch her breath. The kiss breaks because it has to, because Rhett needs a minute or two to suck down air. Rhett’s never been this aroused before, not _ever_ , and she can feel it everywhere, feels the tingle of it through her legs and pooling low and hot in her belly. She aches to be touched and to touch him, that tingling licking its way into her hands. 

She links their fingers together before one hand tugs one of Link’s down, fingers of that hand unlinking so she can urge Link’s hand down between them. Down between her thighs, and presses it against her through the layers of her clothes. _Fuck, that’s not remotely enough_ , but it’s something. Still holding his hand tight, she rubs it against her there. 

“Please,” the word sounds foreign on her lips, broken, desperate. Like she’s afraid he’ll say no, afraid something will happen and that panic will rise in the face of what they’re angling to do together and Link will leave her like this, shaking apart and needy.

Link can feel the heat of her against his hand. This is foreign too, though it isn’t — he’s hardly inexperienced with women, but Rhett’s not a woman, except when she is — and the incongruity of it hits him hard all of a sudden. Far from off-putting, though, it fuels something in him, this deep need to keep control, to make things good. Rhett needs him, needs this, and she’s all but begging him for it and the last thing Link’s gonna do is let him down. 

Even if he is nervous as hell about it. The hand between them shakes with it even as he shifts it, fingers and thumb curling as he changes the angle of his hand so he’s grinding the knuckle of his thumb against her. The air punches out of Rhett again with a low, husky groan and she tightens her grip on his wrist.

In his nerves, Link does as he always does, leans into Rhett for reassurance. Their foreheads come together and he takes a deep, (hopefully) sobering breath, and murmurs, “C’mon, let’s go upstairs…”

Link takes Rhett’s hand in his and leads the way, but it’s still a miracle that they make it without stopping again.

Once they’re in, Rhett’s desperate to get naked and get on with this. She pulls her hand from Link’s so she can get her dress off. She’s standing there in the space between Link and the bed, fumbling to untie the belt around her waist and unzip the zipper at her back. Sometimes she can manage it on her own, but it takes coordination and patience, neither of which she has right now. Her hands start to shake the more she struggles, patches of ruddy pink heating her cheeks.

Link moves in to help without hesitation. There’s a part of him that’s nervous, the anxiety ramping up higher and higher the further they wade into this, but he likes feeling like there’s something he can do to help. Likes the concreteness of it. And it lets him touch her, finding more and more of Rhett in this body the more he exposes. The close trim of her hair at the nape of her neck is the same, and if she were taller he’d fit there the same as he might have always — able to just kiss a shoulder if he tried. That shoulder is easily reachable now and, zipper ratcheting slowly open down the length of her back, the soft constellations of moles and freckles are laid bare. They’re comforting, so _Rhett_ that it lets him breathe deeper, lets him settle back into this himself. He sees that little scar over her right shoulder surrounded by a mess of pale freckles and lays a kiss there. 

His fingers brush the small of her back as the zipper trails down and he can feel her shiver beneath his hands and mouth. The dress falls away and Rhett’s back to trying to help, one arm folding up back behind herself and going for the clasp. Link doesn’t even let her try, just pushes at her hand and undoes the rows of hook and eye closures before pushing the straps off and down her arms, letting the bra fall to the floor. 

She’s just wearing leggings and underwear while Link’s fully dressed. 

His hands slow as they move down from her arms to her sides, tracing the new shape of her body. Leaning in, he noses into the soft, buzzed hair at the nape of her neck, reassured by the fact that she smells exacly the same, a combination of woodsy, the pomade from her hair and something else, harder to describe, just _Rhett._ It’s terrifying, too, because this is real. This is Rhett, and it’s happening, they’re really going to…

“This isn’t how I pictured it, the first time,” he murmurs against her skin. 

Rhett can hear the way Link’s voice lilts up a little and it gives away his nerves. Somehow that’s comforting — it’s exactly what she’d needed. It lets her know she’s not alone in this, in how she’s feeling, turned on and a little scared all at once. Just _that_ , just knowing Link’s feeling the same somehow steels Rhett in that moment, because it means that this is just as important, just as big for Link as it is for her. It means she’s okay to let go. 

“Yeah, I know,” Rhett agrees and leans back against Link, all but sinking into him. This is safe enough to fall into, because just like always, the other one’s there to catch them. It’s not always smooth sailing, but they always come out of it okay, because they’re together. And that’s how this is. 

Rhett can feel Link relaxing against her back, feels how the next breath is long and deep, exhaled over the damp skin of her neck. Clammy hands find Link’s and urge his arms around her, guides them where she wants them to go. Sweeps them up the long expanse of her belly and torso until they cup her large breasts, lifting, feeling the weight of them. Link presses a kiss against her neck, one hand breaking free of Rhett’s tour-guiding to drag back down the length of her and catch her by the hip. He pulls her back against his body and _she can feel him_. The hard press of him against her ass through those jeans, through the clothes she’s still wearing, and she gasps loudly, startled by the fresh spike of need then. A hand flies back around them, reaches for Link and grabs him by the ass to hold them tight together so she can start to feel that grind, her head falling back against his shoulder.

They get lost in that, trying desperately to get as close together as they possibly can with so many layers still between them. Link’s hand sweeps low and covers her between her legs, uses the flat of his hand to guide her body back against him and drags the hand back over her thigh, over her hip, trying to angle their bodies just so. 

“Get on the bed,” Link finally tells her, voice lower than Rhett’s ever heard. 

Rhett’s out of it already. She nods, mouths _’yeah’_ but doesn’t move, can’t bear to tear herself away from Link’s roaming hands. She’s shaking again, but this time it’s not from nerves. 

Link pushes her, walks her the last couple of steps, hands on her hips to guide her as they move. Rhett turns to face him before her legs brush up against the mattress. She’s going for his shirt again. She’s not taking no for an answer, and even when Link is trying to stop her — _gosh, why is he like this?_ — she keeps on grappling with him. 

Link’s got this idea in his head about staying dressed while he strips her naked, so he can focus fully on taking care of her, on making her feel good. It’s half a repayment, an apology for that last time when Rhett and been left neglected in the wake of the rum, but it’s also a really hot idea, he thinks. 

It’s not something Rhett’s going for, though. She manages to wrench his shirt up and yank it off over his head, making his arms move the way she needs them to until she can throw it on the floor. Her eyes flash bright with her victory and she grins at him, but it’s short lived. 

Link shoves her into the bed and follows her down, crawling up over her as she moves back enough that half her legs aren’t dangling off the edge. Link doesn’t even come up and kiss her at first, instead focused on getting her out of the rest of her clothes. He’s taking it slow, making a bit of a show out of it, peeling the leggings down her hips and away from her. Down her legs, slowly, until he’s settling back on his heels and lifting a leg at a time to get them down and off. 

Rhett’s watching everything, chest rising and falling a little fast and shallow, nerves rising up in her again. Link’s going to _see_ her. The reality of it starts to prickle in her mind, that the first time they’re really going to do this is gonna be _like this_. There’s a real possibility that Link won’t like what he sees if they try it again after she switches back. There’s a whole script that comes with having sex with a female body, one that Link’s not even a little bit new to — they might both be nervous, but it’s real easy to lean on that experience and let it take over. What’s gonna happen when they’ve gotta figure things out for the first time, next time?

Link’s edging her panties down her hips and Rhett gasps, shivering at the cool feeling of the air in the room rushing against her heated skin, drenched with arousal. There’s a soft, wet sound as the fabric comes away, because she wasn’t lying — she’d never get used to being _this wet_. 

Rhett’s ready right now for Link to stop messing around with all this ‘slow and methodical’ and just fuck her. 

Link almost stops right there to touch, just leave her panties twisted up around her thighs while he sinks his fingers into her, but he carries on dragging them down. 

Link’s taking it so slow it gives her time to worry. She _knows_ the things he’s said, but still she worries, wonders if he’s slowing around to look for an out. Her hand moves for the beard that’s always there to fidget nervous fingers through, but finds smooth skin instead. She saves the gesture by continuing it up to a little curl of hair above her ear, twists it between her fingertips. She can’t read the answer she’s looking for in his face, so finally she has to ask. 

“Do you still think I’m beautiful?”

Link moves up along her body once her panties hit the floor, the denim of his jeans brushing against her legs as he moves, his chest hair tickling over her skin. Rhett has this moment where she distinctly wonders just what Jesse liked about it when he’d waxed his chest. But coherent thought is short lived because, as Link moves over her, his fingers sink inside her body.

“What do you think?” 

Link’s fingers move in her with this obscenely wet sound and Rhett’s trapped there beneath his gaze and his hand, thrusting up against him for more, harder, _now_. 

There was never a prayer of her answering his question, but Link didn’t really expect to get one. The heat of her body is overwhelming. The familiar and unfamiliar twist in Link’s awareness. It feels like finding someone in a dream you recognize and don’t, both at the same time. He wants everything all at once, wants to feel her buck at him for more like this but he wants to explore her body like so much undiscovered land. He wants to map every soft inch of her body like an atlas, each point plotted meticulously as a guide for the next time Rhett’s _her_. In preparation for the loss of this terrain when the morning comes and Rhett’s slipped back into _he_. There’s no question in Link’s mind about there being a next time. 

Thing is, slow exploration is the last thing on Rhett’s mind. 

She’s got a foot planted against the bed and she’s using it for leverage to move against his hand, to rub herself against him as he folds his thumb in with intention, so it rubs against her with every move. 

Except it’s not even close to being enough. 

All of a sudden she’s grappling with him, shoving him off of her and following him down. She’s swearing under her breath, face flushed and red with need as she starts tearing into his jeans. “Goddamnit, Neal, I need somethin' bigger…” 

Her eyes flick up to his face as she pulls him out of his jeans and underwear, eager hands shaking. He feels bigger than she’d remembered, and doesn’t have the presence of mind to think that maybe it’s because her hands are a little smaller. It’s all she can do not to sink onto him just then but she doesn’t, she tugs them down his legs and he helps, kicks them off frantically. 

It’s happening so fast there’s hardly room to breathe in the middle of it, and before Link has a chance to react, Rhett grasps his cock and sinks down on him like she’s devouring him, enveloping him in the heat of her body. 

Rhett’s never fucked like this. Not quite like this. She’s messed around with Jesse plenty like this, brought toys into it, so having something inside isn’t new, but having someone inside _is_. The heat of his cock is startling, overwhelming, nothing he’d ever have imagined feeling quite the way it does. 

“Fuck, _you’resobig,”_ she gasps, hands planted against his belly for leverage as she moves on him. 

That’s a stroke to Link’s ego if there ever was one, and his hands drag up Rhett’s thighs and find those gorgeous, wide hips and hold on, guide her down on him again and again. Together, they’re working to find a rhythm, and the one they settle into is hard and fast. It’s awkward in stops and starts, one or the other of them getting out of sync, breathlessly too overwhelmed to hold focus. 

“Link—“

 _“Yeah.”_

Rhett’s hand goes for Link’s, grabs his wrist tight. She needs the contact, needs the reassurance, needs him. Link fumbles a little, lets go of her hip and takes her hand and links their fingers up and squeezes. He braces his arm up against his side so Rhett can use the grip on his hand as leverage. 

There’s no way this can last — not with how they’re rushing towards the edge, their bodies slick with sweat and moving together like they’re trying to find some way to get closer than they already are. Link feels lost in her, in how she feels and in watching her move above him, the heavy sway of her breasts, her hair a mess, face etched with pleasure. 

“Oh _fuck,”_ she breathes hard as she rides him, grinding when she sinks down, when he bucks up. 

“I got you,” Link breathes and squeezes her hand in his. 

That’s when it’s like the dam breaks, the filter shot all to hell and Rhett’s just moving and babbling and loud and hot as hell. 

“Shit, you feel so good… so fucking good inside me, Neal. Yeah,” she uses the grip on his hand like the pommel of a saddle and fucks herself down on him harder, mouth open in a silent cry before it finds sound on the next move. 

“Yeah, fuck me,” she breathes, nails raking over his chest, letting go of his hand and boy, does he deliver. 

“Oh god, _oh my god,_ you’re the King of my vagina…”

Link’s just holding onto her hips for dear life. The further this goes, the more she's not even there. With every passing second, she’s just sinking into her own world, lost in how it feels to move on him, to be filled by him, how just the subtlest change rocks her deep.

When Rhett comes, her orgasm hits like a goddamn shock and the room goes silent with just her hard gasp and Link’s hard breathing beneath her. 

The silence stretches on for a long beat, but her orgasm keeps peaking, rolling through her in this ride that’s going up and up. It’s like nothing she’s ever experienced before — as a he. _Nothing._

When the orgasm doesn’t stop coming the silence breaks. She cries out his name, _Link_ like it’s an accusation or a prayer. 

And, fuck, but he’s never heard his name said like that before. 

Link reaches up and takes her hands in his again and grips them tight, holds on to her while she rides through it, her movements growing more and more erratic until finally she just collapses against his chest. 

Link isn’t done — but, _fuck_ he’s close — but he slows, stops, lets her catch her breath. His hands smooth up her back, dragging on all that sweat damp skin. 

Rhett’s barely taken the time to catch her breath when she mumbles against his chest, “Neal… you have to go on without me. One of us has to survive…”

Link can feel the little smile against his chest, and he can’t help laugh at the joke. If he’d started to freak out in the middle of this again, started to get lost in the femaleness of her body, that was just so _Rhett_ there was no questioning it.

His hands make their way back down, nails dragging lightly down on their way to her hips and he keeps fucking up into her, just like that. Not bothering to flip them over, enough strength in his body that there’s no need and he’s not lasting long enough to warrant a change anyway. Rhett sighs against his chest and turns her face the other way, nose dragging along his collarbone as he takes what he needs. 

Rhett can feel it coming before Link warns her, which is a startling realization on its own. She feels it in how Link moves beneath her and hear it in his breath, in the sounds he’s making, tense, raw need against her ear.

“I’m gonna… Rhett, I’m coming…” he warns, like he thinks she wants to move. 

Far from it, Rhett pushes up, wants to _feel it_ , grinds down into the last few thrusts until all of a sudden, Link’s coming with a hard groan. That moment when Link comes overwhelms her, the slight swell of him inside her, the rush of warmth. 

“Oh god…” she breathes, hand passing low over her belly, pressing against Link’s for balance, a connection, or to hold him steady. 

“Wait, don’t move. I can feel you,” she stares down at him, eyes wide with curiosity and excitement. It’s this real subtle twitching inside her, surreal because Rhett’s been on the other side of this, knows what it feels like, what it must feel like for Link. 

“Oh my god, that’s amazing…” 

Link just watches her through it all, awed at her reactions. Finally, Rhett shifts up and off enough that Link slips out of her and she settles back down, lays against his chest without asking or saying anything about it. Link’s hand settles into the curve of the small of her back, a little surprised that she hadn’t moved to settle on the bed, but he figures that Rhett probably doesn't often get to be the ‘little spoon,’ and even if he does on occasion, he’s so tall that it’s got to barely qualify. This is closer to it than Rhett likely has ever gotten to really fitting in against anyone this way, and so he doesn’t say anything for the longest time. The two of them just lay still, basking in the heaviness of their limbs and settling back into their breath. 

Link’s the one who breaks the silence, because he’s half-wondering if Rhett’s still awake, and murmurs, “Hey… you should go to the bathroom, bo…” 

“Mm… don’t wanna,” Rhett mumbles, more sleepy than disagreeable, her voice muffled in his chest. 

“Yeah, but you should,” Link says, not keen on the thought of Rhett ending up with an infection just cause she doesn’t wanna move. 

“…mmkay, fine,” she presses a little kiss against Link’s chest, smiling as she manages to disentangle herself from him and disappears into the bathroom. Link turns to watch her go, attention quickly dipping down to her hips and ass and how they move as she walks. He finds himself overlaying the image with Rhett normally, male hips and broad back, muscles flexing beneath the skin, kind of wistfully. 

She re-emerges from the bathroom a few minutes later having cleaned up a bit, teeth brushed, a damp hand run through the mess of her hair and comes back to bed, crawling in beside Link. He looks over at her silently for a moment and leans in, noses brushing before landing a little kiss to the corner of her mouth. 

“I’ll be right back,” Link says as he comes away. 

He stands and sets his glasses down on the nightstand — his vision’s honestly gone a little blurred from the intensity of the orgasm, so carrying on wearing them is hardly a help now — and heads on into the bathroom. 

Practically the second the door clicks shut, Rhett’s reached out and snagged the arm of those discarded glasses and put them on. Just because she can. 

Just because Rhett practically always does, if Link leaves them unattended.

By the time Link comes back from the bathroom, though, Rhett’s fast asleep still wearing his glasses, the sheet half pulled up around her. Rhett never falls asleep first — not ever. It doesn’t matter how tired he is, it just never happens, so the fact that she’s out like a light brings a self-satisfied little smile to Link’s face. 

He leans over the bed to tug his glasses off of her and sets them aside again before climbing in beside her. He rights the covers over the both of them and, settling himself up against her, big spoon to her little one, falls asleep finally after a stretch of watching her as the light angling in through the bedroom window slowly dies.

It’s sometime in the middle of the night, the room pitch black, when Link wakes up to Rhett’s hand rubbing over his chest as she purrs his name in the dark, “Link…”


	7. There Is A Light That Never Goes Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preamble: Y’all are getting some “he/him” pronouns when we’re musing about Rhett in a general sense, and getting some “she/her” pronouns when we’re talking about Rhett at the moment. 
> 
> Summary: Uhh... forgive me for what I've done. Don't stare into this too long or you'll go blind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter include: surprise daddy play, more genderfuckery somehow?, a heaping helping of destroying your ability to innocently enjoy some RandL song(s), and some [feels](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4WPZMhFa84U).

Link ended up wrapped around Rhett, the way he always did. 

Maybe they actually downplay it a little bit for the mythical beasts, just how much Link tends to sprawl when they’ve got no choice but to share a bed. Maybe they just skip mentioning all the mornings Rhett’s woken up with Link’s morning wood jabbing into his side, because it is, after all, a family friendly show (most of the time). 

Rhett remembers every time it’s happened. Every time he’s laid there in a shared hotel bed stretched out straight as a board to keep himself all neatly contained, because inside he’s anything but. 

It’s always been this bittersweet agony. Something he looked forward to with anticipation and dread in equal measures. It was a chance to get a taste of what he was afraid to try and really have, to let himself be enveloped in those long limbs and the scent of shampoo drying in his hair while Link falls asleep, pretend he was asleep too and let his mind wander. Alone in countless hotel rooms over the years, it was easy to fantasize that when Link surfaced from his sleep he’d nuzzle in close against his neck, pressing kisses to his skin, that his hands would begin to travel south. Added up over the years, he must have spent hours like that, unable to sleep, wide awake and unmoving, just playing the scenario out in his mind as far as he dared to let it go. But at the same time, every one of those nights was a reminder that no matter how close they got, Link was always just out of reach. 

And when he finally dared to try, the both of them fueled by all that liquid courage, he was snapped back to this limbo the morning after. This worse-than-hell, this never knowing, never talking about it, never acknowledging that anything had changed when _everything_ had. 

For Rhett, anyway. 

He’d searched for something in Link that’d give him away in words and lingering glances, touches that lasted just a shade too long. But as much evidence as he compiled over the weeks and months to support _yes_ , he was equally able to read _no_ in dozens of other moments that passed between the two of them. 

Really, it’s no wonder Rhett ended up crying over this earlier, after so much build up. Damn near thirty years of wanting, and over a year of endless back and forth wondering, beating himself up about what happened that night, labeling it a mistake. Maybe, if Rhett were _he_ when this had all come to a head in the car, he might not have ended up crying… but maybe he would have. Link’s one of the few people on this earth who’ve seen him break down. 

The way they’re tangled up right now isn’t really the way it usually was. This time, they’re both decidedly more naked, Rhett’s unmistakably more female, and Link’s _moving_. 

“Mmm… _Rhett._ ” Link’s moaning her name in his sleep, breath hot on her cheek, but that’s hardly the only reason she’s as flushed as she’s getting. 

It’s the heaviness of his arm and leg draped over her, tucked up tight against her like he’s trying to envelope her in a full bodied hug. It’s the hot press of his cock along her naked hip, not even the whisper of sheets between them. Now she _could_ touch, just reach out and curl a hand around him there and give a slow tug, but she can’t — the way she’s laying, the way Link’s coiled around her keeps her from being able to reach him. 

“…Link,” she murmurs again, rubbing his chest. _’Gosh, he’s gotta wake up. He’s gotta…’_ she thinks, because she _needs_ him. Needs him in a way that’s all coiled tight in her belly and she can’t stop filling in the blanks in her mind so much that she can practically feel Link shift, feel him settle down on her, pinning her there easy with the weight of his body. Start to rut that hard cock against her where she needs it as their bodies figure it out in the dark, two fractions that need to be added together. 

Link hums this little _hello_ as he wakes, shifting just a bit. Lays a kiss on her shoulder, rubbing a hand up her side. He squeezes her tighter in a half-sleepy hug, face against her neck. He’s very aware of his erection jutting into her hip. 

“I was dreamin’ ‘bout you,” he mumbles, voice thick with sleep as he noses into her ear and feels her shiver at the brush. 

“I know,” Rhett turns, eyes searching for him in the darkness, adjusted enough to see rough details of his face cast in deep shadow. 

Rhett can feel Link’s smile pressed to her lips when he leans in to kiss her mouth, and she just lets him in. Tastes a lingering hint of peppermint as the kiss slowly dives deeper, and she has just a second to spare for wondering how on earth Link managed to brush his teeth in her bathroom (maybe he found the spare toothbrushes in the linen closet) before the thought is blotted out beneath the weight of Link’s body pressed all along the length of hers. The upward rock of her hips is a natural reaction, a half-sleepy try for friction against the cock she doesn’t have right now. 

She lets out a low, hazy keen at that realization, at the sensation not being what her body might expect — she’s a little muddled, confused enough in the wake of the dreams she’d been having that it’s a little disorienting, a little hard to settle back into her skin.

“Wanna take it slow this time,” she breathes, face hot when she manages to pull from the kiss enough to speak. A hand finds Link’s cheek, catches on the sharp drag of stubble on his jaw and she bumps his nose with hers. “I want you to make love to me…”

Like Link had said back in the car. 

Earlier she’d needed it hard, needed sensation crashing over her like a storm at sea but she needs it slow this time, needs it like gentle waves rippling the sand slow and slower until the tide’s come all come in without a warning. She needs a slow build, needs the time to find her feet again, to sink into this body again and let it feel.

“Yeah?” his voice barely a whisper. 

The soft affirmative hum is answered with a slow roll of his hips that steals a gasp from her and a moan from him, his mouth finding its way away from hers and straying down her body. He lingers here and there, over her neck and lower. Lavishes attention over the uncharted terrain of this familiar-unfamiliar skin until his nose is skimming down her belly, chasing kisses he’s leaving striped down the center of her body. 

Losing the anchor of Link’s body as he moves down makes her afraid of letting go, like without the solid weight of him over her, it’s all up to her to hang on or risk being caught up and whisked away in the undercurrent of this. Rhett knows where it’s going, but it doesn’t make it easier to bear the tension twisting through her.

Link can feel her hesitation shaking through her body under his lips and hands and he stops around her middle, chin still resting on her belly as his gaze skims up to her face, “Are you okay?”

“I’ve… never done this before,” it’s not a protest, it’s just so hard to let go. 

Rhett _wants to._ It’s not that she can’t, that she’s afraid to open her hand and drop the reigns of control — that’s not it. It’s different like this, with another man when she’s not a man, different receiving than it is to give. Rhett’s used to diving into the mess. Used to fucking headlong and raw, taking where taking’s wanted. Slow’s difficult to bear because fast exists, gentle and teasing feel like _not enough_ because rougher, harder, _now_ exists. But that’s not something she can handle now, jumping into the deep end without a passing consideration for how she’ll catch her next breath. She needs the safety of a line to shore.

“Consider it payback,” Link kisses the words into her skin, lower, but he doesn’t get far before Rhett’s panic rises to the surface again.

 _”Link.”_

It’s not a protest, but there’s tension still there, an uncertainty. She wants to feel more in control, because she doesn’t right now, not at all, and the depth of her need is overwhelming. Where did this desire come from, to just let things happen to her, to give Link that control? Rhett doesn’t know, but she doesn’t need to know or understand it. She hardly knows what it is she’s looking for. It’s not like she doesn’t trust him, but this is just so new. It’s a place Rhett’s never been before, let alone the two of them together.

Link comes back up, stretches up the length of her torso until he can look her in the eye, one hand stroking back through the mess of her short blond hair.

“I’ve got you… just let go.”

It breaks some of the tension. Some of it is just because Link is back up here, back at eye level, his body covering hers again, weighing her down. And she can feel him, the brush of his bare chest, that dark hair against her body, the drag of his heavy cock along her thighs, bumping up against her pubic bone as he moves. It’d be so easy, so very easy to just… 

And she tries, legs falling open wide as she squirms beneath him in a desperate bid to thrust herself up against him, tempt him to take her fast, _now_. 

This isn’t letting go. This is Rhett trying to avoid being vulnerable, it’s Rhett trying even now to take, but in fits and starts she’s yielding. It’s in the easy spread of her legs, the whimper that escapes as she tries to turn her face away. 

Link settles down on her, holds her down against the bed gently, intentionally with the weight of his body and he catches her face with his curled fingers and doesn’t let her hide. He kisses her again, slow like the tide sweeping in, and when he pulls away from her mouth again he repeats himself, “C’mon… let go.”

Leave it to Link to somehow know just what it is Rhett needs in a moment like this. To know that Link would keep her afloat if she let go, that he wasn’t going to let her drown in this. She manages to sink back into herself, held down safe beneath Link. 

Link makes his way back down, slow and deliberate. He takes his time, but this time he’s not so much exploring her as he is staking his claim. When he gets there, his hand rubs warm over her thigh as he settles between her spread legs. He lays a kiss against the soft skin of her inner thigh as he turns in, and she can feel the drag of his stubble and the scrape of teeth against her there as he sucks, rising blood to the surface. The threat of leaving a bruise behind like a no trespassing sign, like carving his name into the bark of a tree. _I was here. This is mine._

Shivers tickle up her thighs and pool heavy in the pit of her stomach and she can’t but squirm her hips like she’s trying to get friction against her from the very air. He doesn’t leave her there long, desperate and searching against nothing. He answers her need with his mouth, and when she feels the first hot drag of his tongue between her folds, she just _groans_ , legs falling open, inviting more. Begging _again_. Link repeats the move, leaning in, tongue tracing up and down over her clit, licking along it in slow, worshipping circles, teasing and testing to find out what she liked. 

The answer was apparently _all of it_. 

“Holy shit, Link,” she breathes, her voice reverent. It’s not just the heat of his mouth or how it feels, it’s fucking everything. 

It’s how surprisingly _into it_ he is, how good he is at this. The way he devours her like he’s starving. She’d never have guessed that this was something Link would be this good at, let alone like to do, given his many hangups about flavor and texture, but there’s no question that he’s enjoying himself. 

There’s nothing coherent about Rhett right now. She couldn’t offer verbal direction right now if her life depended on it, but Link doesn’t need it. He can read it in her reactions, in her body. In the clench of her pussy as he alternately licks or fucks into her, fingers curled and seeking.

She practically jolts off the bed, back arched _hard_ , all the air rushing out of her. What the hell is going on? What’s happening? Link is… he’s fucking _everywhere_ … he’s inside, and his mouth is on her, somehow, magically, finding exactly where and how Rhett needed to be touched. Dazed, her mind can’t quite piece together just what Link’s actually doing to her… is that… Link’s fingers? Is it somehow his tongue? 

Fuck, she doesn’t know. 

It’s _intense_ but it’s not enough, it’s this wet whisper of sensation that builds so agonizingly slow that Rhett’s body is starting to quake and move, a desperate, wordless bid for _more_. Her hips move, rocking of their own accord, eager and impatient with her growing need. Her breathing’s falling apart, high and tremulous, thin and too fast and she’s grabbing for Link with touches that don’t land. Fingers just rake through the mess of his short hair like she’s petting him. Like she’s begging him to just let her cum. 

“Link,” the word catches in her throat as she catches his hair in a fist, tugs him in tight against her body. She feels and hears it when Link moans with his mouth on her, breathes her in and exhales her as his long fingers move in her, press up so he’s directing steady pressure _just there._ Feet planted against the mattress, she’s grinding up against him, against his mouth or his fingers, desperate for more.

Her hand is shaking and she holds him tighter for an instant, tight enough that she might be crushing his nose against her, enough that it almost certainly hurts before she lets go. Whatever Link was looking for, he found it and she can hardly stand it — she’s got to move. Got do something, got to find a place for all this feeling to go. Her hands roam up her own body, petting over her belly, cupping her breasts, squeezing them together as her fingertips catch and worry her nipples — she needs something. Needs to be held or held down, needs to feel like she’s not about to float out of her body if she lets go, if she just lets it happen. She needs Link to make good on his promise. 

That’s when Link’s free arm drapes heavy across her hips, a reminder that he’s here, he’s got her. That he’s gonna see this through right. And he does. Link can tell from her reactions that he’s found it — the right rhythm, the right combination of touch, pressure and speed, hands and mouth working in unison, two fingers fucking into her again and again and _again_ , just there, relentlessly sinking home. The shiver that curls up her spine threatens to turn her inside out.

Link loves this. He loves feeling this in control, he loves doing this for Rhett, giving her the chance to let go, to come apart in a way he’s never imagined. He’s imagined it, both of them male, imagined taking him apart with his hands and his mouth, with his cock… but this, this was something new entirely.

“Oh, Link… _Link, please._ I’m so close,” she babbles, voice dipping lower than he’s heard it today, husky and sweet. 

Link raises up enough to look up at her, and she groans at the loss of his mouth, but to glance down at him is a different sort of thrill. Seeing him like this, messier than she’s ever seen, hair wild and glasses gone, mouth shining with her arousal and his saliva, with the mess he’s made of her thighs. 

“Good boy…” he slips.

But the sly grin says that was no slip, it was intentional. That he knows damn well what he’s doing. Blurring the lines between what they’re doing now and what Rhett’s fantasized about since before he was old enough to have the words for what he wanted. 

“…you gonna cum for me?” he finishes.

God, but she doesn’t mean to whisper “Yes, daddy,” but it tumbles out anyway, cheeks flushed and ruddy. 

How many times have those two words been on the tip of Rhett’s tongue when he’s all alone? How many times have they slipped out, soft and secret in the dark when he’s taking care of himself? 

Link catches it, almost too soft to be heard, and smiles sly. He’s not sure why he’s surprised that they share this, too, one more thing in a decades long list of interests they both share. He wants to devote decades more to finding their overlaps in this new facet of their lives, to making discoveries together between the sheets (and… in other places).

Her face is burning when Link ducks his head again, when he burrows his face back down between her thighs. The heat of his mouth is back on her as he settles back into what he’d been doing before he pulled away to answer. He’s bringing her back up to that edge more quickly than before, because this time he knows just how to touch her, how to fuck her to shake her to the core, to bring shivers lapping up her spine. She’s making sounds Link had never imagined Rhett capable of making, breathless and gasping, moans that bleed into the next, wordlessly begging him _please don’t stop._ Link wants to hear them in his usual voice, imagines the rush of desperate sound dipping low and rough, sinking baritone with pleasure and sounding so unmistakably male. 

When her orgasm hits, it hits so hard and fast she can hardly breathe, so suddenly she’s recoiling from it. Trying to curl in on herself like she can escape the crash of feeling that threatens to drag her under, but she’s not able to, not with how Link holds her legs open for him, one of his arms draped over middle, casually holding her all but pinned to the bed. All that’s left is just to feel, to accept what comes and shake apart knowing that Link’s there, that he’s going to keep her safe.

Link pulls away only once she’s started to come back down, laying a kiss against her inner thigh alongside the bruise he’d made, and he looks up along the length of her body. God, is she ever gorgeous, her chest still heaving as she sucks in air, flushed and breathless, all loose-limbed and relaxed. He climbs back up the length of her with the intention of coming in to kiss her mouth if she’ll have it, but he gets distracted on the way. He lays an open mouthed kiss against the warm freckled skin of her left breast and nuzzles in against her there, between them. 

Rhett sighs, tired and basking in the moment, but tired doesn’t mean that she’s done. She feels like she could rally, like all it would take to get her on board for another round is a few more minutes of Link’s mouth on her body. One large hand comes up and rubs over her right breast, feels the weight of it against his palm as he drags fingertips over the nipple in a slow pinch, a gentle knead, his mouth paying attention to the other. 

“Oh, now you wanna rub my chest,” she can’t help the lazy comment, a stupid, blissful grin on her face, pleased with herself at her joke. 

Link casts her an upward glance and gently bites at her nipple as ‘punishment’ for that completely unnecessary Booty Knot reference. If it could really be called punishment. 

“Oh gosh,” comes her hushed response, and he’s rewarded by the way that nipple hardens against his apologetic tongue. Link was right — home of the sex drive. He’s grinning as he moves, as he makes his way to the other side, 

He finally makes it up to where he’d meant to go at the start, but he doesn’t immediately lean in for the kiss he’d wanted. He comes close but he hesitates, lets her choose whether or not she wants to taste herself on him. There’s barely a moment of hesitation — she can’t quite reach him so she reaches up, grabs a hold of the nape of his neck and hauls him down for a kiss. Link should have known there’s nothing Rhett will shy away from, nothing that will keep them apart. Rhett relishes the messy physicality of sex.

She can feel him pressed hard and hot against her hip, his cock leaking as he ever so slowly rocks himself against her, eager for friction, for the tight heat of her body.

“Link…” she murmurs the words against his mouth, barely pulling away before she starts to talk, feeling too needy to put any real space between them, “I need you.”

“Yeah…” that’s all he needed to hear. When Link moves, he settles back on his knees between her still-spread legs, keeping a hand on her body as he moves away. Rhett looks so unbelievably debauched like this, sweaty and overheated, shivers raising goosebumps over her limbs in the cool air of the room, her cum-soaked legs still spread for him as her eyes dragging down his body and settling lazily on his still hard cock in open invitation. 

He snags a nearby pillow as he gathers up one of her legs to guide it to his shoulder, hand cradling her ankle as he draws it in close to his ear. He doesn’t explain what he’s doing, but Rhett figures it out when Link’s lifting her ass up off the bed and pushing the pillow up under her hips. She helps, plants the other foot against the bed and raises herself up to make it easier.

As soon as it’s set she’s trying to draw him in, using her heel against his shoulder to try and pull him close, but he’s not having that. He catches her ankle again and guides her leg off of his shoulder and starts to move, but apparently not fast enough for her liking. That long leg is back, wrapping around his side to urge him in and down. She manages to unbalance him but he catches himself, one arm bracing his weight and the other gently urging her leg to fall back to the bed, urging her spread and ready for him, as he lays down against her.

When Link moves over her, crowds into her space there’s no escaping his hot breath on her neck, she doesn’t immediately stop trying for more. She can feel him where they’re practically pressed together, where the head of his cock starts to find her. It’s so soon on the heels of her first orgasm but she aches for him to be inside her.

“…go as deep as you can… I wanna feel you,” she begs him, arm curled tight around his shoulders, fingers gripping him tight. 

He doesn’t answer, not with words anyway, just with this sharp intake of breath and the slow, steady sink of his body into hers, spreading her open around him. He feels bigger this time, harder to take. She feels so full already and he’s still sinking into her with these slow, ever deepening thrusts. It’s only then that she starts to go still, overwhelmed, Link continuing to move in her. Rhett hadn’t imagined it’d feel like this, this edge of pain, this dull ache inside her where they’re pressed together. It’s not the first time so it doesn’t make sense, but it’s nothing she can’t take. She’s trying to breathe through it, expecting it to be okay at any second, but it’s not settling out. God, it’s getting worse, feels like her body’s a tight fist that can’t let go and the discomfort is visible on her face.

“Does this hurt?” Link asks, stopping everything when he hears her whimper, recognizes it as pain and not pleasure.

“Yeah, but that’s okay,” stopping is the last thing she wants to do right now, but Link’s slowing already, pulling back.

“No it’s not, Rhett… I love you and I’m not going to hurt you…” 

They’ve said ‘I love you’ before, on camera and in their real lives probably dozens of times, but never like this. Never even close to this. 

Rhett feels her face heating and there’s a second or two where she feels lost, not like she can’t face it or doesn’t feel the same, but like it’s just so much all at once. To hear Link say that _now_ while they’re tangled up together, and she doesn’t know just what to do, just how to react.

“I love you,” he says it again, their noses brushing as he leans in, telling her like it’s a secret they’re whispering back and forth in a fort they’d made as kids. “I… I love how tall you are, and how gentle… I love your blond hair, and your stormy gray eyes… how you can't hide a smile because of your cheekbones,” Rhett can hear the smile in his voice as he says that, can feel it against her lips as he leans in to press a kiss against her mouth. Pulling back, “…gosh, I love your mouth…” he adds, a little breathless. 

Link can feel her relaxing around him through this, feels her give beneath him. Feels all the tension inside her uncoil the more he says. He rocks against her and it’s not long before they’re moving together, Link sinking in so much more deeply than before. She’s staring up at him in the dark just drinking this attention in, absorbing it like a sponge, drunk on the way Link’s looking at her. On the intensity of the connection between them. 

She feels so full of him already, with the way he’s buried in her as their bodies rock together slowly, and he’s kissing her, licking his way into her mouth. She’s holding him close, arms tight around his shoulders, fingers in his hair and those long legs coil around his waist, eager, needy. If it was possible to get closer, Rhett would try. She’d breathe him in like air, feel him fill her very lungs. If there was a way he could crawl inside her skin, she’d let him in. And she wants to dive into him, too, burrow in deep and wrap herself up tight in him, wants to possess and be possessed by him until the border between their bodies blurs indefinitely. Until no one knows where Rhett ends and Link begins. 

Link can feel her orgasm as it comes, feel the way she tightens around him. After the fact, it’s hard to know who came first, if it was Link’s that set hers off or the other way around, because the force of it is blinding. It’d been building in Rhett for a while, shaking through her bones, and when she comes it tears through her and leaves her hollow. Leaves her grateful that Link hasn’t moved, that he’s still there to hold her down, 

“I love you…” she murmurs, her forehead pressed against Link’s, their faces pressed close. It’s always been true, but there’s more to it now, a depth to it because of what they’d just shared. Because Link helped her let go.

“I love you too, bo.”

Long after they’d both peeled themselves up to go to the bathroom to clean up a little bit and use the facilities and come back to fall asleep curled together, Link wakes up needing to pee. He doesn’t know what time it is, but the room is brightening with the approach of sunrise not yet slanting through the windows. He rolls away from Rhett’s warmth, from her back where he’d been sleeping up against her like spoons.

He slips away to the bathroom and doesn’t notice that anything’s amiss until he’s coming back. That’s when he sees that the sleeping form curled up under the blankets has a beard now, but still the same wild mess of blond hair. The same kiss-bruised lips. Sometime in the last few hours they’d slept, Rhett had clearly changed back. He probably didn’t even know it himself, yet. 

Maybe it should be more jarring than it is, after the night they’ve had together, for Rhett to be male again. To know that he’d been curled up against him naked beneath the covers before he got up to go to the bathroom, but it isn’t. It’s like a sigh of relief.

Link climbs into bed and tucks himself back up against Rhett, just the way he had been before he’d gotten up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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